Nowhere to be Found
by soraxtsuna123
Summary: One day, Ponyboy Curtis was kidnapped. The gang tried to desperately find him, but can they rescue him before he breaks or is killed? What exactly does the kidnapper have in mind for Pony?
1. The Disappearance of Ponyboy Curtis

**Warning: This story contains topics that may be triggering or is too intense for some audiences. Some subjects include torture, rape, manipulation, abuse, and suicidal thoughts/depression.**

 **IMPORTANT thing to understand before starting this story: Time will be weird in this story. There will be a lot of time skipping around to be able to have an eventful story. This is especially eminent in the different perspectives. Ponyboy's perspective might be hours or days into the story, while the gang's or detectives' perspective might be months. Sometimes they will match up. I will try my best to keep it as close as possible to each other, but please keep in mind that time could go back-and-forth.**

 **I already wrote a story about kidnapping, if there are any of my older readers here. This story is pretty much a replacement because of how much I hated that one xD. I do not recommend reading that story for any of the new readers. Seriously. Don't. It's still there for a comparison on my writing growth.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own _The Outsiders_. **

**o-o-o**

If you would have asked Ponyboy if he ever had a time where he wished he was dead and have all the suffering end, he would have had no hesitation to his answer. It wouldn't be the normal answer, such as bullying, being in an abusive relationship, losing a loved one, or anything in that category. No. Ponyboy would have loved to go through those a thousand times than go through what he had been through. Even now, when he knows that he is safe, he wishes that he were dead so that the memories wouldn't plague his mind anymore.

It all started while he was in the middle of track practice. The coach had the team run to the nearby gas station—a two-mile run there and back. It usually took the entire practice because it was difficult to keep running without stopping. Plus, everyone would stay at the gas station for a while to hang out and catch their breath before returning. No one complained about the run because, overall, it was nice that they could have a change of scenery and have that small bit of freedom.

Ponyboy Curtis was usually one of the first people at the gas station. This time was no different. He leaned against the wall, trying to capture as much shade as possible. Even though it was early spring, it felt like mid-summer. Sweat made his eyes sting as he constantly swallowed his saliva to ease the dryness in his throat. He would kill for a coke right now.

On a normal day, Ponyboy would also be one of the first people to leave the station, but this time was different. He didn't know what it was, but Pony was a lot more out-of-breath than usual. Maybe it was the humidity; maybe not. But he decided to stay behind a bit longer to relax, watching as more and more students left the gas station to return back to school.

When Ponyboy finally composed himself, he pushed himself off the wall. He was about to start jogging back as well when he heard a ' _psst_ ' from behind the gas station. Ponyboy almost ignored it, thinking that it was just his imagination or the sound of a car exhaust or something when he heard it again but louder. The boy peeked over his shoulder but saw nothing. Passing it off as nothing again, Ponyboy turned around, noticing that everyone outside was either gone or had headed inside the station. Again, Ponyboy got ready to jog, but he heard someone whisper, " _Come here. There's something really cool back here."_

Ponyboy knew that he didn't imagine that.

Normally, Ponyboy would be wary of strangers calling him over, but it could have just been a classmate and, if worst comes to shove, he could easily run away or call for help from the gas station attendants. Yeah, that's right. It wasn't like he was alone or anything and he had the upper hand on the stranger. With that soothing confirmation, he warily crept over to the source of the voice. With each step, his heartbeat sped up and he could feel his anxiety tickle his spine. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to run away; that there was danger just around the corner…but Ponyboy ignored it. All he had to do was have a small peek and then he could go. No biggie.

With a big breath, Ponyboy peeked behind the store, only to find…nothing… It was completely empty besides a trashcan and a few boxes. Ponyboy let out his breath that he didn't know that he was holding. So, it was his imagination. He was relieved that it was nothing in the end. He didn't know how he would react if someone was there that wasn't a classmate.

Ponyboy turned to start heading back to the school once again when there was a sharp pain in his neck. Instantly, he felt his body weaken and he got more tired. The world around him started to spin, darkening at the edges. He strained his neck to see behind him, but his vision was so blurry that it was hard to make out any features. All he could tell was that the person was of the male stature and was towering over him in height. He noticed the man's eyes for a brief second before he couldn't focus on them any longer. They were empty and dead as if this person's been to hell and back… and yet, there was something creepy about it…something insane and playful…

"Help me," Ponyboy managed to choke out before his eyes grew too heavy for him and everything went to black. The last thing he saw before falling into unconsciousness was the ground racing to meet him.

o-o-o

When he woke up again, he was in a freezing room with a massive headache and body aching all over. Groaning, Ponyboy opened his eyes, only to be faced with darkness. Something tight was wrapped around his eyes. He was blindfolded. The boy went to pull whatever it was off, but he couldn't move his hands from behind his back.

What…?

Again, Ponyboy tugged, but all he got was a pain in his wrists. They were zip-tied…and he was blindfolded… As if a switch just turned on in his head, Ponyboy woke completely up as the events from the gas station started to play through his head.

 _He was kidnapped._

No. Ponyboy sucked in a sharp intake of breath. No. No. No. No. No. No. This couldn't be happening to him. He had to be dreaming. This had to be some sort of nightmare that he will wake up from. Soda was home, cradling him in his arms, telling him to wake up. Darry was there too, most likely, with a tired look in his eyes, but still filled with worry. He had to wake up. But he knew that it wasn't a nightmare from how much pain he was in.

Breathing erratically, Ponyboy started to struggle more against his bindings, but it was futile. The zip-ties dug deeper in his wrists, shooting a burning pain around the area. He could already feel the skin rub off, leaving smaller patches of raw flesh exposed, and he could feel bruises forming as well. "Help! Someone, help!" Ponyboy screamed, tears forming in his eyes that were dabbed away by the blindfold. "Somebody, help me, please!

"You know, struggling is useless," someone said from nearby, causing Ponyboy to flinch and jump a little, hissing as the restraints dug deeper in him. He thought he was alone. He would rather be alone. He doubted that whoever said that was another kidnapped victim. This was the man that kidnapped him. "You do know that you can sever off your hands if you continue like that?"

"Wh-Who are you? What do you want with me?" Ponyboy demanded. He tried to sound tough, but every inch of him was quivering, making him sound more like a whimpering, wounded animal if anything.

"My name is not important. Just know that you are going to help me out a lot."

"What do…What do you me-mean?"

But the man didn't answer. Instead, he warned Ponyboy, "If I ever catch you trying to call out for help again, I will rip out your voice box, so you won't be able to talk anymore and then feed it back to you. You dig?"

Ponyboy slowly nodded his head, whimpering. He didn't like to look like to appear weak, but he couldn't help himself. He was so scared. Hopefully, someone would find him soon. The gang had to have noticed him missing by now. The gang… he wondered what they were doing right now. They all had to be worried sick…even Steve and Dally.

"It would be a shame too," the man continued. "I quite enjoy your pretty, little voice. I don't want to get rid of it, but if I have to, I would." Fingers brushed against the boy's cheek, causing him to jerk away. The man growled and slapped Ponyboy across the cheek, causing his head to be flung back as red-hot pain bloomed across his face.

"Plea-Please let me go! What did I ever do to you?" Tears were cascading down Ponyboy's cheeks now, the blindfold too saturated to hold any more fluids. There was no point in trying to act tough…it would probably get him killed if he acted like that. "I'll do anything, just let me go. Please."

"You didn't do anything… Someone else did, and you will pay the consequences."

o-o-o

To say Darry was furious was an understatement. There were no words that would describe his vexation. It was past curfew and Ponyboy had yet to return home. Sitting in his chair, the eldest brother had his eyes trained on the door, constantly checking the clock. His fingers scratched at the newly-formed hole in the arm-rest.

"He'll be back, Dar. Don't worry," Soda reassured his older brother.

"I know, but he better have a good excuse."

But they soon started to eat their words the longer they waited. Soda was a lot more carefree on the issue, crashing on the couch, but Darry was still wide awake, yet mentally exhausted. With each passing second, the more dreadful thoughts flooded his mind. Every imaginable outcome played out in his mind. Ponyboy could have been jumped or out there, getting into trouble. Pony was a good brother, Darry tried to remind himself. Even though he doesn't use his head all the time, he should have the knack to be able to tell what was right or wrong and to stay out of trouble. He started to have doubts as soon as 4:00 AM hit… then, before he knew it, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and Ponyboy had yet to return.

From beside Darry, Soda yawned, pushing him from the couch. "Did Ponyboy come back yet?" he asked sheepishly, not yet grasping how exhausted Darry looked.

"No. Soda, I think something happened."

That woke Sodapop up. He shot off the couch with newfound energy. "Something happened? You don't think that he got jumped, do you?"

"We need to go search for him. Call the others and tell them what is going on. I'm going to drive around and see if I can find him."

Nodding, Soda rushed over to the phone, first dialing Steve's number. Darry grabbed his keys, jumping inside his truck and sped down the road. His fingers clenched the wheel, turning them white.

' _Ponyboy…Come one…Where are you?'_ Darry uttered in his mind, panic fueling his blood like adrenaline. But still no Ponyboy.

He had to have driven around every road in Tulsa a dozen times before he gave up for the day and returned home, where the gang had recently gathered in after their search for the youngest member of the gang. Most of them had distraught plastered on their face.

"Did you find him?" Soda asked, already knowing the answer.

Darry shook his head. "No. Did any of you find a trail on him?"

"I asked around, but no one has seen the kid since yesterday evening," Dally answered. "Shepherds said they would keep an eye out for him."

"I'm going to call the police." Darry stormed the phone, lifting it up to his ears with shaky hands as he dialed 911. The ringing was loud as the gang quieted down to try to listen in on the call. It was unnerving, to say the least. The last time the house was this quiet with all of them there was…when their mom and dad got in the auto wreck…What if Ponyboy was dead? Darry shook his head. He didn't want to imagine that.

"Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?" the operator picked up after a few rings.

"Hello. My youngest brother is missing."

"Has it been twenty-four hours since he has been missing?"

"No, not yet, but—"

"Sir, please call back when it has been twenty-four hours. If he hasn't returned by then, then we will file him as missing."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, sir, this is protocol. Usually, the missing victim returns before twenty-four hours. Please wait until then and we will put in a report to find him."

The operator hung up and Darry clenched his teeth, slamming the phone back on its dial. "Damn it!"

"No luck?" Two-Bit asked.

"I have to wait a full day until I call."

"What if Ponyboy is dead?" Soda asked, staring holes into the ground.

"The kid's too stubborn to be dead," Steve reassured, but even he doubted those words. "We'll find him before anything bad could happen to him."

Soda could only bite his bottom lip and hoped that Steve was right on this.

In the evening, Darry ringed up 911 again. "911, what is your emergency?" the same dreaded words rang out.

"It's been twenty-four hours and my brother is still missing."


	2. Detectives on the Case

**Occasionally, you will see numbers behind a sentence, for example: (1) or (2). If you see one, scroll to the bottom of the chapter to read more about that certain topic, if you wish. An example…the first number in this chapter is about Ponyboy hearing voices. The extra information at the bottom of the page will go over on all the psychological stuff to explain that phenomena. It's extra, but it might be really interesting for some of you, I know it was to me. So, enjoy that inclusion :)**

 **Also, this chapter does have different times as I had warned before. It will eventually even out again, but more time has passed with the gang. Maybe a few days ahead of Ponyboy's parts.**

 **o-o-o**

It was so quiet. He couldn't hear birds or cars or anything that would help him figure out what time it was or how many days have passed since he was captured. It was so quiet that he was able to hear white noise as well as his own heartbeat and his own organs working. It was a sickening sound to hear his own blood slosh within him.

He just wanted it to stop, but the noise was so loud in the quiet room. He wanted to listen to something…anything other than that. Even the ticking of a clock would have been ideal. Maybe then Ponyboy would have some sort of clue on how long he's been there. Even though he knew that it couldn't have been more than a day or two, it felt like he's been there for an eternity. It felt even longer because of how cold it was. Man, did the guy put the air conditioner on the coldest temperature?

Ponyboy was sitting there, shivering and teeth clattering to the point when he thought his teeth were going to just fall out. He couldn't hug his body in an attempt to stay warm. All he could do was sit there, feeling his fingers and ears grow number.

After dragging Ponyboy from the spot he was tied up to, to what he assumes was another room, the kidnapper left him to his lonesome to do who knows what. It couldn't have been more than an hour since he walked upstairs. But that hour was enough time for Ponyboy to start hearing things (1).

" _Ponyboy…"_ someone whispered from right behind him, causing him to flinch. _"Ponyboy…"_

The voice was so familiar, but he couldn't place it. Ponyboy wished that he could see.

" _Ponyboy!"_ the whisper turned into a yell. Ponyboy cringed and ducked his head, hugging his knees against his ears to block the sound, but it was useless. No matter what he did, the yelling continued just as loudly as it was with his ears uncovered.

"Wh-Who are you?" Ponyboy asked as colors flashed across the insides of his eyelids. He passed it off as just seeing things from how tightly the blindfold was tied around his head though.

The person didn't answer his question. Instead, they started to scream bloody murder nonstop. Five minutes of screaming turned to ten. The shrill felt like his ears were being sawed off. It hurt so bad that Pony screamed in an attempt to drown out the noise. His breath started to become erratic again as everything was just so intense. His anxiety levels were so heightened that it felt like his skin was crawling.

"Stop! Stop screaming!" he exclaimed, starting to rock a bit in his spot.

" _You're going to die here! You're going to die here!"_ the voice sang.

"Shut up!"

From somewhere in the room, a door creaked open and the screaming stopped abruptly. The pumping of his blood and heartbeat was gone, and Ponyboy couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"You looked like you've just seen a ghost," the kidnapper joked. "Man, that room really _does_ work. Go figure. I had it specially made for you."

Was he not in a regular room?

"What do you want?" Ponyboy asked. Although, he didn't want to know.

"I'm going out for a bit. I just came here to warn you. If you try to run or catch someone's attention from outside, I will hurt your family and friends…maybe even kill them." These words made Ponyboy become rigid.

"Y-You don't know where they live," Ponyboy tried.

"Au contraire~ I know exactly where they all live. I know where some work. I know where they hang out or even sleep. You wouldn't want to be the cause of their demise, huh? Maybe I _should_ keep them alive. Maybe I will break something, paralyze them, or take away their hearing or sight. That way, they will know that you will be the cause of them being in that state and they will blame you and hate you."

"No! Don't you touch them! Please, don't harm them!"

"Then do as I tell you. This is what I'm going to do. I'm going to show you what I'm going to do to them if you disobey me."

Before Ponyboy had the chance to process exactly what the man was going to do, something hard and metal crashed into his head, causing his body to fling to the side with a loud scream. For a brief moment, Ponyboy thought he was going to pass out, but he was rudely brought back to the situation at hand when another blow hit him in the ribs and Ponyboy curled up into a ball, handing his arms over his head to protect it. Again and again was the metal beat into his chest until there was a loud _crack_ as one of Ponyboy's ribs snapped.

Another scream erupted from Ponyboy's mouth. The pain felt like all of his organs were being stabbed by a knife.

"S-Stop please," Ponyboy begged, sobbing at the shoe of the man.

"You have to learn…" was all he heard before another blow was made to his head, knocking him out.

o-o-o

A couple of days had passed since they filed a missing person report. The gang were all irritable from their nonstop searching. They already knocked on every door in the neighborhood and even asked around in nearby towns. It didn't seem like they had anyone helping them search for their youngest until there was a knock on their door.

Darry, who was the only person in the house at the time, swung it open, knowing that it wasn't anyone in the gang because they would have barged right in. On the other side were two suited men. "Hello, this is the residence of Darrel Curtis, correct?" one asked.

"Yes," Darry answered. "Can I help you?"

"We are the detectives that were assigned to your brother's case and we wanted to ask a few questions to help us get started on it."

"Of course, come inside." Darry stepped to the side, motioning them in.

Nodding, the detectives entered the rickety house. "My name is Joseph Connolly, and this is my partner, Richard Ward," the one who spoke before introduced. "So, tell me about your perspective on Ponyboy's disappearance. What time he usually comes back, extra activities, and the such…" Both of them took a seat on the sofa, pulling out a pen and a notebook.

Darry sat down in his armchair, digging his nails into his scalp. "Well, after school, Ponyboy has track practice. Unless it's the weekend, Ponyboy returns home around six o' clock."

"And he goes to Will Rogers High School, correct?"

"Yes."

"Does he get driven, take a bus, or walk home?"

"Sometimes he walks. A lot of the time, he gets picked up from either Two-Bit…er…Keith Matthews. Sometimes he takes a bus when no one can pick him up and he didn't feel like walking. It really depends on Ponyboy's mood."

"A lot could happen between getting from school to here. Does Ponyboy have any friends, in school or outside of school that could be of suspicion?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He has us and people who grew up with him. He also has some friends in school, but they're good people."

"May we have a list of their names and contact information. We want to question everyone just in case they know something that could be of use to us."

"Yes, of course." As Darry was writing down everything, he continued, "Ponyboy tries to steer clear of questionable people." He ripped the paper and handed it to one of the detectives. He scanned it over, raising an eyebrow.

"Dallas Winston? He tries to steer clear of questionable people, for sure…" the detective said sarcastically. "Mr. Winston is someone who gets into a lot of trouble with the police."

"He has, but he's someone that's been a friend for a long time. He knew Ponyboy when he was really young."

"Next question. Was Ponyboy into drugs?"

"No. He smokes, but nothing more."

"Where does he like to hang out?"

"He's usually at the DX Station nearby to visit his other brother, at the cinema, at the nearby park, in the lot, or at the library."

"And was he acting strangely before he disappeared?"

"No."

"Do you know anyone that would want to hurt him or had a weird fixation on him?"

"The Socs are my best guess…but they try to mess and jump a lot of greasers. Other than that, no."

"Well, do you have any current photos of him for references?"

"Yes, one moment." Darry stood up and picked up a framed photo, sliding out the image before putting the frame back down. He examined it longingly, a small smile tracing his lips as he remembered the day the picture was taken. It was a photo of the three of them. Two-Bit took the photo for them. It wasn't even a good photo. Although it wasn't blurry and there were no fingers blocking half of the photo, it was nearly impossible to settle his two brothers down for it. Apparently, they decided to play a small prank on him, making ridiculous faces of ducking out of the photo. It ended up with him pressing down on their pressure points where their necks met their shoulders to have them not move and make a relatively neutral face. He returned to the detectives, handing the photo over. "Here."

The detectives shut their notebooks. "Thank you and thank you for the information. We will try our best to find your brother…before it's too late."

Before it's too late? "What do you mean by that? You _can_ find my brother, right?"

The detectives looked at each other nervously. "Missing people are really hard to find. We will try our best, sir," Richard answered, avoiding the question. Before Darry could demand a better answer, they exited the house and hopped into their vehicle. Darry could only watch in worry as the car drove away.

 **o-o-o**

Ponyboy woke up to the sound of someone yelling on the floor above him. "Vincent, are you here?"

A new voice. Someone was above him that wasn't his kidnapper, who apparently was called Vincent. Someone was here that could save him. Ponyboy got up and was knocked down again, now painfully aware of how much pain his body was in. Apparently, Vincent kept beating him even when he was unconscious.

"Help! Please, help me! The man kidnapped me!" Ponyboy called out.

"Oh my god," the person, a woman, said. "Where are you?"

"I…I don't know…" Ponyboy went to pull off his blindfold, finding that he wasn't tied up. As soon as he did, he hissed in pain, covering his eyes, but he pushed through the pain to see that he was in a basement. There were two rooms there. One of them had to be the one he was in previously. He didn't know what was in the other one. There was a table as well, covered in different tools that Ponyboy didn't pay much attention to. There was also a bathtub in the corner that was covered in mold and grime. "The basement! I'm in the basement!"

His heart beat quickly in excitement and relief. He was finally getting out of this hellhole. There was a jiggle on the door to the floor above him. "It's locked. I think you can open it on the other side. Can you get to it?"

"I can try." Ponyboy lifted himself from the floor, legs shaking from not using it in a while and from the pain. His broken rib shifted, sending a wave of pain through his body. He grunted as he slowly made his way up the old, wooden staircase. 'This was it,' he thought as he touched the brass doorknob, clicking it open. He opened the door and saw the woman on the other side. She looked at him worriedly before her eyes snapped to the side, eyes growing wide.

"Vincent!" she exclaimed, but that was all she could get out before she was shoved forward, body colliding with Ponyboy's, causing him to lose balance and fall backward. Ponyboy's stomach flipped as his body felt weightless. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion until his shoulder hit a step, making him cry out in pain. He tumbled down the stairs, body twisting in unnatural angles.

He hit the floor with a cry as his wrist snapped. He clutched it and tried to get up and away, but a foot slammed into his head, hitting it against the ground. The foot pinned his head, forcing him to look at the girl next to him who got the fall worse than him as most of her limbs were all twisted, and she was screaming and crying in pain.

"Watch," Vincent growled as he loomed over the girl, still pinning his head down and blocking the view of what the man looked like. All of a sudden, a knife was stabbed into the girl's torso, causing her to scream louder. She tried to move her broken arms to block the man from continuing but she couldn't as she was stabbed again and again. Her panicked eyes met Ponyboy's teary ones and he literally watched the life disappear from them as she stopped moving. Blood pooled around her as Vincent continued to stab her. With each stab came a disgusting sloshing noise. Ponyboy closed his eyes, but it only made things worse, so he opened them again and stared at the girl's lifeless eyes until he was blindfolded again.

"Bad boy, Ponyboy. I warned you about what was going to happen if you call for help or try to run away. You did both and now I'm going to have to punish you," Vincent said. Ponyboy could hear the man walk away from him before there was a sound of something metallic being dragged across the floor. "How about I take away your ability to use your legs?"

"No! Please don't! I'm sorry. I won't do it again," Ponyboy begged.

Vincent raised up the sledgehammer above his head and swung it down onto one of Ponyboy's ankles. The crack of his ankle shattering was louder than Ponyboy's scream. Ponyboy whimpered as he grabbed his ankle and cradled it.

"If I catch you doing that again, your ankle won't be the only thing that this hammer breaks."

All Ponyboy could do was sob. When were they going to find him?

 **o-o-o**

 **(1) After around forty-five minute of absolute silence, people will start to become mad. Absolute silence is really disturbing because you can actually hear your own blood pumping through your veins and everything working inside of you. It causes high anxiety because people are used to hearing echoes so there is a lot of unfamiliarities. There are many cases were people actually starts to hallucinate—seeing images, flashes, or even hearing voices. Having absolute silence is really hard to get though. You would need a room covered in foam to absorb sound. This means all surfaces, even the ceiling and floor. I overexaggerated a bit because the room Ponyboy was in didn't have foam on the floor. But shhhh…**


	3. He Knows Where We Live

**So, I've received some questions about when this story takes place because I have yet to write in Johnny. I just wanted to say that Johnny** _ **is**_ **alive. I just haven't written any dialogue for him yet. However, the events of the book never happened. There was no fire or Cherry or nothing. Sorry that I haven't written Johnny in yet. He'll be appearing soon. ^^'**

 **o-o-o**

If Ponyboy thought that the abuse was miserable, he didn't know how to classify the pain in his stomach from how hungry he was. It felt like a hand was tearing open his stomach. He didn't know how long it's been since he last ate. It was during lunch that day he was taken…and even that wasn't much food. That means he hadn't had a bite for a few days maybe many. He really regretted skipping breakfast that day. Even though it felt like weeks, he knew that it couldn't have been many days because he had yet to drink any water and humans can't last long without it. His throat burned from how dry it was but even though he desperately wanted to drink water, he was desperate to go to the bathroom. It felt like he was going to explode but all he could do was hold it all in. His hands shook in anticipation as he waited for his kidnapper to come down, much to his displeasure. Ponyboy couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when he heard the door to the basement open.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Ponyboy asked.

"If you have to go, just go," the man answered.

Ponyboy cocked his head. _'He's letting me go to the bathroom?'_ Ponyboy wondered. He thought it was going to take a bit of begging. "O-Okay…Thank you…Where's your bathroom?"

There was a pause before he hears the man scoff. "I meant go here. I'm not stopping you. You'll just need to clean it up afterward."

"W-What?" Ponyboy stammered, ears red at the embarrassment. "I-I can't—"

"You can." All of a sudden, Ponyboy felt pressure around his bladder area as Vincent pressed his foot there. He whimpered and shook his head violently. The foot pressed harder and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. Even more pressure was placed on his bladder and everything was released with a small sob.

His face burned red as he ducked his head in shame. He shifted uncomfortably in his warm and soggy pants, and the man chuckled, caressing his face. "Look at the mess you've made, Ponyboy," the man cooed, causing the other's face to become even darker. "We have to clean you up now."

His face was let go and Vincent walked away to fill up the bathtub that was in the basement. Oh, man, Ponyboy was absolutely humiliated. The last time he peed himself was when he was a little kid. At least Vincent wasn't making fun of him. If the gang saw him piss his pants, he wouldn't hear the end of it. So, in a way, he was grateful that it was Vincent who saw instead of them.

Ponyboy shook his head. What was he thinking? He wouldn't have had this problem if it wasn't for Vincent. He kidnapped him for Christ's sake! He shouldn't be comparing him to the gang or be grateful for him!

"Get in the tub," Vincent commanded and all Ponyboy could do was comply. He painfully dragged himself across the floor, sprained wrist burning each time he pulls his body weight. But even though he was approaching the tub, it was too slow for Vincent's liking and the man growled, stomping over and grabbing Ponyboy's hair. Pony yelped as he was dragged over, trying his best to keep up, but each movement felt like every inch of him was stabbed by a knife.

Ponyboy was thrown against the full tub and he barely caught himself from slamming his head on the edge. His fingers gripped the edge of the bathtub, fingers dipping into the freezing water. "Get in," Vincent ordered again and Ponyboy gulped, stepping inside, face scrunching up at how cold the temperature was. Oh man, did he want to jump out. It stung against his open wounds, but in a way, it helped his body become numb so that he wouldn't feel as much pain. The water quickly soaked his clothes, making them so much heavier than they were originally. Pony sat down and just waited, unsure on what he should do. "You need to take your clothes off."

"No…th-this is fine," Ponyboy stammered, teeth clattering as he hugged his body, but again, he knew that he shouldn't have objected Vincent as he heard that angry snarl that caused Ponyboy to become stiff.

His hair was roughly grabbed again, and, before he knew what was going to happen, his head was dunked in the water and held. Ponyboy sucked in water in surprise, feeling it sting his eyes and brain, as he thrashed around. He grabbed Vincent's hands, trying to tear them off but it was at an awkward angle so he couldn't even do anything. His vision darkened at the edges and his lungs burned and right before he thought he was going to pass out, his head was pulled out. Ponyboy gasped to fill his air with as much oxygen as possible before he was dunked in again, and it wasn't much longer before his vision started to darken.

' _He's drowning me! He's drowning me!'_ Well, at least he wasn't thirsty anymore.

He was pulled up at the last second and Ponyboy gasped for air. Before he could recollect himself, he was pulled out of the tub, slamming him against the ground. Hands immediately grabbed his body, tugging at his clothes.

"No, stop! Don't do that!" Ponyboy pleaded and pushed down the shirt in retaliation.

"You're going to get really sick if you don't strip."

"I'll take my chances," Ponyboy spat venomously, only to receive a slap against his cheek. The boy yelped, holding the area.

"Listen to me, boy!" The shirt was forced off and soon everything else was gone. Ponyboy felt exposed, curling up into a ball to try to cover himself the best he could. More tears adorned his cheeks as he could feel the man examine every last detail on his body. It was humiliating. Just feeling his looks made it feel like Vincent's hands were all over his body, feeling him up. "You're very beautiful, you know that?"

His words made Ponyboy want to throw up, but he shook his head. "Stop…" Ponyboy whispered, hiding his face in shame.

"It's true though. You are so beautiful. Absolutely perfect for me…"

Ponyboy almost retaliated with a rude comment but he swallowed his words and only sobbed. He felt the man stroke his hair, making it feel like there were a thousand little spiders crawling through his hair. He flinched, nearly ducking away, but stayed put. Vincent hummed and moved his hands to caress his face again, stroking the tears that fell through the blindfold.

"You have to open up and let me see all of you," he suggested. Again, his hands moved, sliding down his entire body, fingers pressing into every groove and bruise until they reached his legs. His hands slid down his thighs, and as much as Ponyboy wanted to struggle, he was petrified on what the man would do to him if he did. He knew where this was leading, but maybe there was a chance of nothing happening to him if he just complied.

Vincent pulled down his legs and Ponyboy cried harder as there was a long pause. "You opened up so easily? Are you secretly a slut?" His hands traveled dangerously close to his crotch. He shook his head, whimpering. "But look at you. You're a lot smaller than what I initially thought…"

Ponyboy just wanted him to shut up. Why can't he just leave him alone?

"So small that, with your prettiness, you could easily be mistaken for a girl. Do your friends and family do stuff to you because of how feminine you look? Do they touch you? Make you feel good?" Vincent continued.

"No!" Ponyboy's lips trembled. The gang would never touch him sexually! The man was just disgusting!

He needed to change the subject. Maybe then the man would stop touching him and would stop saying this to him. But to what? His stomach growled again.

"C-Can I have food? Please, I'm starving," Ponyboy asked, feeling Vincent step away. He sighed in relief.

"You're such a spoiled, needy bitch," Vincent said. "I'll give you food when I feel like giving you food. You haven't been very good." Vincent walked away to Ponyboy's relief. As soon as he heard the basement door close, he instantly curled back up feeling both ashamed and cold.

 **o-o-o**

The two detectives made their way to the gym after getting permission to ask some students and teachers a few questions. Joseph Connolly and Richard Ward quickly found the gym teacher who was watching the students shoot some hoops.

"Hello, my name is Joseph Connolly, and this is my partner, Richard Ward. We're both detectives on Ponyboy Curtis's case," Joseph introduced.

The coach quirked his eyebrows in a mixture of curiosity and worry. "Ponyboy Curtis? Did something happen to him?"

"Yes. He had recently gone missing. We wanted to ask you a few questions to help us in our investigation. Will that be alright?"

"Yes, of course. Follow me to my office. My TAs will watch over the students for the meantime."

The three made it to the coach's office where they all sat down. Again, they pulled out their notebooks. "So, to start off, you didn't notice that one of your students and track team members were missing?" Richard asked.

"I just assumed that he was sick."

"We questioned Mr. Curtis's family and they told us that he was supposed to come home right after track practice. Did you see him during practice?"

"Yes, he was there… But only halfway through."

"Please, elaborate."

"Every now and then, I will have the team jog to the gas station nearby and back. Ponyboy was there during check-in and I remember seeing him run when I blew the whistle. After track practice and after everyone leaves the locker room, I would walk around to check to see that nothing valuable has accidentally been left behind or to pick up some things, so the janitor wouldn't have to do as much work. Ponyboy's backpack was still there and his everyday clothes were still inside the locker."

"And you didn't find that strange?" Joseph asked.

"Of course, I did. I even drove to the gas station to check if he was there. He wasn't. I just assumed he just left in the middle of practice. It's not uncommon for a student to do that."

"And you only figured out something was wrong when you checked the locker rooms?"

"There are a lot of kids on the team. It's hard to keep tabs on who's there and who's not."

"What gas station do they run to?"

"The one near Turner Park."

The two detectives passed each other a glance before closing their notebooks and handing the coach their cards. "Thank you for your information. Please call if you remember anything more."

"No problem. Ponyboy Curtis…he's a good kid, and heck of a runner as well. Please, find him."

"We will try our best."

 **o-o-o**

Johnny was walking to the DX station after escaping his house. He was kicking a stone, not paying attention to where he was going. It was really strange to not have Ponyboy there. Johnny didn't know how much he played a role in his everyday life until his best friend was ripped away from him. Without Ponyboy there, there was no one he felt comfortable around enough to talk about his emotions and to calm him down. He felt like was going to explode with how much stuff was piling on his shoulders. His depression was catching up to him, and with no one there to tether him to life, he didn't know what he would do…Sixteen years was too short of a life...

Fourteen was too short too… Even though Ponyboy might live…no, he definitely will live…fourteen years is too young to live through so much trauma from what whatever is being done to him. Anyone shouldn't go through that, but Ponyboy, man…he was only fourteen.

It scared Johnny to think about how different Ponyboy will be after they find him. Nothing will ever be the same anymore.

As he was entering the station, he bumped into a tall figure.

"Excuse me," the man said with a gruff voice. He carried a few bags in his hand and Johnny only had a brief view of the contents in the bag. One entire bag was filled with bottles of hydrogen peroxide. Another bag had a bunch of beef jerky. Johnny didn't think much about it as he nodded and walked inside the building.

Soda was at the front desk looking horrible. His hair was disheveled, bags under his eyes. He wanted to be out there, searching for his brother, but he couldn't just stop going to work as well. He had to help Darry pay for the bills, especially earn extra cash for if Ponyboy had to be sent to the hospital.

' _He's not going to get hurt,'_ Soda tried to soothe himself, but even _he_ knew that it was a longshot.

"Hey, Soda," Johnny greeted.

"Hey," Soda said, pulling up a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have found anything that would help find Ponyboy, would you?"

"No, sorry…"

Steve burst into the store portion of the building with a sort of panicked expression. "Did you see what that guy was carrying in his bags? All of that hydrogen peroxide and beef jerky?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Soda asked, flipping through a magazine with a bored expression.

"Who buys that much hydrogen peroxide and beef jerky?"

"Maybe a camping trip?"

Steve looked at Soda with an are-you-kidding-me expression. "Soda, not even someone going camping would buy that, especially here."

"What are you implying?"

Johnny froze as he realized what Steve was trying to say. "He might be the guy that took Ponyboy."

At that moment, Soda shot up from his slouched position, looking more awake than ever. Panic was eminent on his face as he managed out, "We need to catch him!"

The three ran out of the building but were disappointed to find that the man was long gone. Soda screamed, kicking a trash can. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stormed back inside the store. Steve and Johnny just stared at Soda's retreating back in shock. They've never seen him behave so aggressively. It was so opposite of the happy-go-lucky self he normally was.

"Soda," Steve started as he reentered the building, "do you happen to know what the man looked like or what his name was?"

"No! I didn't think anything about him or really looked at him when he was at the counter! I could have caught him and got my brother back! I'm so stupid and useless!" Soda exclaimed, banging his fists against the counter.

Johnny was staring off in space as he tried to recall any detail of the man from his encounter with him, but, alas, he couldn't remember anything. "Why did he have so much hydrogen peroxide? You don't think…"

Steve shook his head. "He had to have gotten it to dissolve blood…but I think Ponyboy is okay. He still bought a lot of beef jerky…probably to feed him."

Then another point of realization hit Johnny. "Why did he pick to buy those items here of all places?"

There was a long silence. Someone could drop a pin, and have it sound like an explosion, it was so quiet. Steve gulped, mouth suddenly dry. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, finding the right words to say. Finally, he spoke two dreadful sentences that sent chills down their spines. "He was checking up on us. He knows who we are and probably where we all live as well."

Soda swallowed thickly. "I…I have to tell Darry."


	4. What if?

**A week after his disappearance…**

He didn't know how much more he could take of this. The man left him alone for… maybe… What? A week? A few days? Ponyboy couldn't tell. All he knew is that he hadn't seen Vincent in a long time. The only time he saw him during that period was when a few pieces of beef jerky was thrown in front of him and he was given some water, which he consumed greedily. At first, Ponyboy thought it was the best thing. He wasn't hurt or beat, Vincent didn't see his nude body, and he could take a deep breath without fearing for his life. But, now, he was really eating those words.

Although it seemed crazy, Ponyboy missed Vincent. He missed human contact; someone to talk to. It seemed the longer he was left alone, the more he realized that he would never be found. It's been so long. What if the gang wasn't looking for him anymore? What if the police just gave up? What if he will be stranded here forever?

He shook his head. It's preposterous, he knows. But, what if? He always seemed like a kid, a nuisance, and an annoying brat to the gang. What if they're glad that he's gone?

It's absolutely ridiculous… right?

Ponyboy would have slapped his cheeks a few times if he could move his arms that were tied up since the last time he had seen Vincent. It was a precautionary measure to make sure that he wouldn't try to escape during his absence. It didn't matter anyway. Ponyboy knew he wouldn't be able to get away anyways. He couldn't stand on his feet nor could he crawl quickly enough to make any large impact. Besides, he couldn't leave. Not when his life, as well as the gangs, were on the line. He couldn't be the cause of them getting hurt or killed... not by this madman.

The image of the girl that was murdered before his eyes flashed through his mind. He could still vividly see the blank expression on her face, mouth opened as blood cascaded down her pale complexion. He could still hear the sloshing noise of the knife being plunged into the corpse. He still remembered the blood that covered his body as Vincent made him clean it out with hydrogen peroxide. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

The basement door suddenly slammed shut, causing Ponyboy to flinch. Loud stomps approached him and he could feel his body tense up in anticipation. His hands trembled as he was once again aware of how much he had to go to the bathroom. The man leaned down, breath brushing against Ponyboy's face.

"You're a piece of shit, you know?" The man spat.

Ponyboy didn't answer the question. He opted to keep his mouth shut, hoping that by behaving he would be left alone. However, today was not one of those days. Something made of glass was hit above his head and Ponyboy screamed as the shards fell around him, deeply cutting him. Vincent picked up one of the shards and pressed it against Ponyboy's neck. The jagged ends easily ripped through his skin as if it were like butter. From where the glass touched him, he could feel warm blood dribbling down his neck. Ponyboy gritted his teeth.

"You're useless! I thought taking you would help me!" Vincent screamed. "You're worth nothing! I should just kill you right here and now. I don't need you."

The glass dug deeper into his neck and Ponyboy pleaded, "Don't kill me, please. I'll do anything. I don't want to die…" Tears once again formed in his eyes. He couldn't die here. Ponyboy was supposed to go to college and get out of Tulsa. He was supposed to be the one who made it out. This couldn't be the end of his road. It wouldn't be fair. He couldn't just be ripped away from everyone he loves just like that. "I don't want to die!"

The glass moved away from his neck and Ponyboy let out a sigh of relief a bit too soon. The glass slid across his cheek and Ponyboy hissed. "Stop," Ponyboy pleaded, thrashing in his restraints in an attempt to get away. The glass cut deep wherever it touched. Blood was seeping from each wound heavily. It got to the point where his body started to become numb. And then, all of a sudden, Vincent dropped the glass, letting it clatter against the floor, leaving Ponyboy sobbing and trying to stem the bleeding to the best of his abilities.

The kidnapper walked away for a bit, grabbing the box of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one and stuck it in his mouth. Ponyboy perked his head at the smell of a cigarette. Man, did he want one right now. He never had other things to worry about than a cigar, so he never craved one. But now that one was lit, he couldn't help his body from twitching with the need to smoke.

Vincent must have noticed his change in behavior. "You want to smoke?" he asked. "Why do you think I would let a worthless piece of trash smoke?"

There was a scoff. "But you know what?" Vincent continued with slight amusement lacing his voice. "I'm feeling generous. You want a cigarette… I'll give you one."

Vincent pressed down the butt of the cigarette against Ponyboy's forearm, causing him to wail. His body started to shake. He tried to pull away but he couldn't. His muscles locked up. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air and smoke pultruded from the new wound. When the cigarette was removed, it left a circle of red and white flesh, skin completely burned off.

Ponyboy gasped heavily, rocking back and forth. His arm felt like it was on fire. It was so hot, even in the freezing room. His eyes started to become heavy like they were both tasked with holding the world. The loss of blood was really starting to get to him.

"I ought to find something useful for you to do," Vincent growled, turning away for a moment.

During that small moment, Ponyboy's eyes fell to the shards of glass on the floor. Before he could completely pass out, he stretched out his fingers and dragged a shard of glass towards him to the best of his ability. He hid it in the space between his body and the pole he was tied up to.

Vincent turned back, cleaning up the shards of glass before leaving again with an irritated huff.

Ponyboy's head bobbed as he felt his body start to relax. The worries of his situation left his mind. Oh, man, was he tired. It's been a while since he actually slept, Ponyboy realized, before the world around him slipped away.

 **o-o-o**

 **A few days after Ponyboy's disappearance…**

At the gas station, the detectives sauntered into the building, heading straight to the cashier. They pushed passed the customer, ignoring the insults and curses thrown at them.

"Um…Can I help you?" the young cashier, Jim (according to the name tag), asked with an annoyed tone.

"We need to ask you some questions. Time is of the essence," Richard stated.

Jim nodded, passing them a confused expression. "Can you do that while I ring up this customer? I don't get off my shift for another three hours."

Knowing that this was the best that they were going to get, they agreed. "We are detectives looking over a case and wanted to see if you know anything."

The cashier paused. He shook his head then tapped some keys on the cash register. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do nothing."

"We're not talking about you. Don't worry," Joseph reassured. "Were you working here last Tuesday at around four in the afternoon?"

"I was."

"And did you notice anything suspicious or hear anything out of the norm during that time?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Were there anyone in the store during that time?"

"Most likely. I think there was the track team, but by four, most of them were already gone on there way back to the school. I remember that much. I checked the clock to see how much time I had left on my shift. There were maybe a few people in the store still left. I don't know if anyone was outside."

"Do you remember who these people were or what they look like?"

"Have a good day," the cashier said to the customer, passing him a bag with the items that were bought. Jim turned back to the detectives, cocking an eyebrow. "Do you expect me to remember what people look like? How many people do you think I see during the day?"

"Right, sorry." Richard apologized. He scrunched up his eyebrows in slight embarrassment before he pulled out a photo of Ponyboy and handing it the employee. "Do you recognize him by any chance?"

Jim stared at the photo, studying hard. "I mean… I've seen him a few times here and there… but I don't remember seeing him Tuesday. He might have been with the group that didn't enter the store. I would ask Tom if he knows anything. Tom was working at the pumps during that day."

"Is he here now?"

"Yeah, actually. But not for long. He gets off in a few minutes so I would hurry to see if he's outside or in the garage or not."

"Thank you, Jim," Joseph thanked, only to receive a lazy wave of the hand in return. The detectives left the building and saw a man helping a lady out at the gas pumps. They walked over, calling out for his attention. The man turned as he pulled the pump out of the car. Tom was labeled on his chest.

"Can I help you?" Tom asked.

"Jim told us that you were working here around four in the afternoon Tuesday. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions regarding a case we are working on," Richard said.

"You detectives?"

"Yes, my name is—"

"Don't care. What do you want to know?"

Richard gapped, aghast at how rude the teen was, but he quickly recovered, handing Tom the photo of Ponyboy. "Do you recognize him?"

It didn't take long before a look of recognition passed on the worker's face. "Yeah! He hangs out with Two-Bit! I see him here a lot!"

"Two-Bit…Keith?" Joseph questioned.

"I don't know what his real name is. Probably. What about the kid?"

"He's missing. Was he here Tuesday?"

"He was. He was one of the first one to arrive in his track team and stayed for a while… Though I don't remember seeing him run off… but what do I know? Kid's fast."

"Did you hear anything or see anything suspicious regarding him?"

"No. It's hard to hear anything anyways. The cars usually drown out a lot of sounds."

A dead end. The two detectives both internally cursed, shooting a look at each other. At this point, was there any point continuing this investigation? There were no leads and no evidence left behind. It was just like the other cases.

 **o-o-o**

"Darry!" Soda called out, jumping out of the car before Steve could even park. He barged into the house and found Darry in the kitchen, starting up dinner. "Darry! Something happened!"

His older brother turned around looking beyond tired. His icy demeanor was disheveled, and his eyes were downturned and pitiful-looking. But at Soda's words, he looked more attentive. "What happened?" he asked, hope flashing past his eyes. He pleaded with whoever was watching over them that it was some good news regarding Ponyboy.

"We saw the man that took Pony!"

At those words, Darry almost dropped the frying pan that he was holding. His eyes widened as he placed the pan down, grabbing his brother's shoulders. "What? Are you okay? How do you know if he did take Ponyboy? Did you actually see him?"

"It had to be him!" Soda confirmed. "It just had to be him."

Steve sauntered into the house with Johnny. "Soda's right, Darry. It had to be him. He bought so many bottles of hydrogen peroxide. Who even does that?"

Darry gave them a look. "I mean that is strange, but we can't just point at someone and blame them for taking Ponyboy."

The panicked expressions on the three's faces dropped. "But it's…" Johnny started. "It's the only lead we have."

"I know, but it's not like you could even find him again? Do you even know his name or what he looks like? How would you approach him without him getting a restraining order on you? The only thing that we can do is never be alone. If he knows where you work, he might know a lot more than what we would like to think. For now, I'll talk to the detectives about what you saw… for all we know, it might be something…"

Later that day, after Darry called the office of the detectives, there was a knock on the door. The entire gang looked towards the sound in unison before Soda jumped off of the couch and swung open the door.

"Detectives," he greeted, letting the two enter the house. "Did you find him?"

The somber expressions on the detective's faces made everyone's heart halt for a moment. "We did not," Joseph answered, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry… I'm going to have to give you terrible news… Usually, within twenty-four hours of being reported kidnapped, the victim is considered dead. Ponyboy is most likely of the deceased now."

The entire house went silent as the gang tried to process everything that was just said. The atmosphere of the living room was thick. Soda was the first to break the silence. He fell to his knees, hands covering his mouth to muffle the choked sobs that escaped him. Large tears cascaded down his face as his heart snapped.

Johnny was also in a similar state. He dug his head in his knees. Two-Bit rubbed his shoulder soothingly, even though he knew it didn't help one bit. Tears were falling from his eyes like waterfalls, but he tried his best to be stable from everyone's sake.

Steve and Dally looked away from everyone, a serious look on their faces. Even though they kept their tough demeanor, they couldn't help but feel a pang in their chest. Dally shook his head, frowning deeply as he pushed past everyone and stormed out of the house. He had to get out. He had to do something. He couldn't just be there and feel sentimental or whatever sorrowful emotion there was to feel. He cursed as he picked up a stone and threw it through the windshield of someone's car. He felt like he was going to explode in anger. He had to do something. He just had to.

Darry stood there, body frozen in shock. His eyes were brimmed with tears as his fists clenched. It shocked everyone. Darry never cried. He didn't even cry at his parent's funeral. He was always seen as a rock that was impossible to break. They never thought Darry could cry. But, now that they've seen it happen, it broke them even more.

It was unbelievable to even think that Ponyboy was dead. He was the one that was supposed to strive and get out of the slums. No matter how much they could recall on their memories, Ponyboy was somehow incorporated into them. Even though his presence sometimes annoyed some of them and a lot with Steve, they had to admit that life wouldn't be the same without him. Ponyboy was a huge and irreplaceable part of their life.

"So you're… So you're going to stop looking for him?" Soda asked almost inaudibly. His voice tremored and broke at most syllables from his sobs.

"We live in a system where the law will dismiss cases. Most CSIs will throw away rape kits and not even bother with finding who the rapist was. In this case, investigators will usually stop looking within six months. It's a horrible system," Richard explained. "There is a chance in finding Ponyboy… but in most kidnapping cases, people end up killed within twenty-four hours of being taken… especially with this particular man."

Darry shot his eyes towards Richard, eyes becoming hard again. "Who is he?"

"That is confidential information—"

The next thing everyone knew, Richard was slammed against the wall. Darry's fists curled into the collar of the detective's shirt, hands shaking with how tightly he was clenching. "Don't give me that bullshit! This is my kid brother we are talking about! You just implied that you know of this man! So, tell me, right now. Who…is…he?"

"Darry…" Soda began but shut his mouth.

Richard glanced at his partner who just shrugged. "Please, let me go… I'll tell you everything that we know."

 **o-o-o**

 **I had to resist the urge to put a pun in the description of Darry's crying. While I was saying, "he was always seen as a rock that was impossible to break," I seriously wanted to put a pun in. I really wanted to continue with, "you could even say that he was a diamond… a diamond in the rough." I couldn't do it though. It was a serious moment. I just needed to write it, even though it's not in the story. I'm so sorry.**


	5. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

**I'm so sorry that this update is so late! I was caught up in finals and Christmas. Thank you for those who understood my situation from the get-go. I will try my best to continue with weekly updates.**

 **Also, please leave a comment to help encourage me to continue this story. Your reviews give me life.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **o-o-o**

The detectives stared at each other, trying to figure out what they were going to say. They weren't allowed to share this information… but they couldn't just blow off another family. They had to tell them something, even if that meant that they were going to get in trouble by their boss. They've been following the kidnapper's case for years; telling the unfortunate news to each grieving family and watching them all break down. They couldn't watch it any longer. Every person had a breaking point, and it was now their turn to give in.

"Well?" Steve began, irritated that no one had talked yet. He crossed his arms, tapping his foot. Each tap was in sync with the ticking clock, making everyone even more anxious than they already were.

"Unknown…" Joseph blurted after a while longer, earning a puzzled look from the gang. "His identity is still unknown. This whole case has been going on for years. All we really know about the kidnapper is that he's a pure psychopath. From the eyewitness accounts, we know that when he goes out to take his next victim—"

"Don't call Pony a victim!" Soda cried out.

"Right, sorry…" Joseph shifted on his feet awkwardly before continuing. "When he kidnaps a person, he wears a dark hoodie that covers his face. No one knows what he looks like, but he has a tattoo on his arm of tally marks. He probably adds one for each person he takes."

"He's smart and careful about everything he does so that he wouldn't be caught," Richard continued, "and it seems like he usually does it for the kick of it. No corpse of the missing people has ever surfaced… for all we know, they could still be alive. It's very unlikely though since we are talking about dozens of people. None of them, however, have any connections to each other, besides the fact that most of them were from Oklahoma."

"You know… I'm pretty sure that we saw him," Steve brought up, going over to his best friend to comfort him. He swung an arm over Soda's shoulder, pulling him in close. Soda rested his head on Steve's shoulder, sniffing. It was a touching gesture and would have been awed at by how close the two friends were if they weren't in this horrendous situation and if Joseph and Richard didn't gasp. The detectives choked, snapping their attention to them, about to ask about the criminal's appearance. But Steve was already answering their unsaid question before they had a chance to even utter it. "We don't know what he looks like though. Sorry to burst your bubble. We didn't pay attention to that when he passed by. He was carrying a whole bunch of rubbing alcohol bottles and beef jerky packages. It was weird."

They nodded, closing their mouths so that they wouldn't be looking like a gaping fish. "Where was this?" Joseph asked.

"The DX station where Soda and Steve works," Johnny answered, rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

They wrote this information in their notebooks. Joseph looked up first, giving them a sympathetic look. "Listen…" he began. "We're going to keep looking for Ponyboy even when we were told off of his case. I'm sorry that we don't have much information, but you have to understand that he's smart… and dangerous. It is very likely that him appearing at the DX station is no mere coincidence. Just… be safe…"

"We got Superman's muscles to protect us," Two-Bit joked, trying to lighten up the mood. He hated how serious everything was.

Unfortunately, no one was in a mood to laugh. Instead, Richard scoffed, "Muscles can't win a fight against a weapon."

The house fell into another awkward silence before Darry spoke up. "By any chance, do you have any evidence that you've found from Pony's case?" he asked.

"Yes, but it isn't much. Not enough to really begin solving his case."

"Can we help figure the case out?" Johnny suggested, surprising everyone. He blushed a bit at the attention, picking at his jeans. "I... uh… I just thought we could give a separate perspective on the entire case. Ponyboy once told me detectives did that… at least in the movies that he watched…"

Joseph and Richard both raised their eyebrows and nodded. Joseph started to flip through his notes. "Well, to begin, we know that Ponyboy was taken during his track practice when the team jogged to the gas station. No one noticed or heard him when he was taken, so that indicates that there wasn't much of a struggle. Whatever knocked Ponyboy out was fast. It probably wasn't from a blunt object because there would probably be blood left behind. So—"

"He was drugged," Steve finished, earning a short nod.

"We also know that chloroform wasn't used because that takes a few minutes until it knocks someone out. There would have been too much of a commotion from Ponyboy screaming and all."

"So… injection? Like with a needle?" Two-Bit asked. "Or was he roofied?"

"Needle most likely. Ponyboy most likely didn't have a drink with him unless he bought one at the store, but he would have to be running with money—"

"Pony tries not to spend money if he could. He sneaks into the drive-in all of the time and pockets the money."

"He does what now?" Darry looked at Two-Bit with judging eyes.

"Not important right now," Steve interrupted. As much as he loved for Ponyboy to get in trouble, the kid already had too much that had happened to him.

Darry sighed, shaking his head. He would deal with that issue when they find his little brother. Alive. "Have you tried to search for the syringe?" Darry asked. "It had to dumped out somewhere with Ponyboy's DNA on it."

"Do you know how much trash we would have to look through and how many syringes we would have to DNA test? Do you know how many resources it takes to even perform the test?" Richard scoffed with an annoyed expression.

"But there has to be something!" Soda exclaimed. "Check where the gas station dumps their trash. You might find his fingertips."

"He was probably smart enough to not do that."

"Probably… not definitely," Soda objected. "Please, check…" He looked at them with pitiful, pleading eyes.

They stared at Soda before sighing. "We'll check for you, but it'll take a while for us to find any results. We don't have much time if Ponyboy is alive."

Soda nodded. "That's all I ask."

"Can we check your documents on the case by any chance?" Darry asked.

"Yeah, go ahead," Joseph agreed and spread every paper across the coffee table. "Knock yourself out. You won't find anything we haven't told you yet."

 **o-o-o**

He had to hurry. He just had to. Ponyboy couldn't handle it any longer. He had to leave. He had to run (or crawl) to the police or the nearest house. He had to do it before Vincent could even notice that he was missing.

Ponyboy's hands trembled as they were covered in layers of thick blood as the shard of glass cut through his palms from how tightly he was clutching onto it. "Shit," he hissed. The glass dug in deeply as he quickly sawed at the zip-tie in short motions, smiling in victory when it snapped apart. He ripped off his blindfold, letting light fill his vision. It was blinding, stinging his eyes from the lack of use. It might have even been better if he would have left the blindfold on since he was temporarily blind as his eyes got used to the light.

When Ponyboy's eyes adjusted to the lighting after several minutes or burning agony. He crawled across the floor, whimpering as he irritated the cuts on hands, letting dirt and dust collect in them as the ground pulled at his skin, making the cut worse. He climbed up the stairs, listening closely to any bit of sound. It didn't seem like Vincent was in the house. That or he was on the second floor if there even was one. Either way, it meant that he had a chance of escaping without being caught, and Ponyboy was willing to take anything at this point.

Every inch of his body was on fire as he crawled out of the basement, snapping his head around. The coast was clear. There was no sign of Vincent. He just had to get out the front door and he would be home free.

There was shuffling above him, signaling that he had to move quickly and stealthily. Fuck, he was so close. The front door was in sight, giving him extra adrenaline to numb some of the pain and to push him even faster. Ponyboy's vision went blurry, head swimming as he opened the front door, a tired smile on his lips.

However, that smile dropped when he saw that the house that he was trapped in wasn't on a familiar street with any familiar houses. In fact, there weren't any houses as far as the eye could see. He was stranded. He couldn't run (not that he could anyway). Vincent would find him before he got anywhere if he didn't bleed out before then. He couldn't return to the basement either. There was too much blood, Vincent would know.

He fucked up! He fucked up!

He was going to die and so was the gang.

Ponyboy should have stayed locked up in the basement. If he would have followed the man's instructions, everything would be fine, but he was so screwed now.

There was another shuffle above him as he went to close the door, already accepting his fate. Maybe he could get out easily if he just went back down the basement and showed Vincent that he was loyal to him. But before he closed the door, his eyes caught a glare from the car that was parked in front of the house. His eyes fell to the license plate number as an idea struck him.

 _7D69ST1_

Ponyboy's eyes snapped towards the phone that was at the end of the hallway near the bottom of the staircase to the second floor. He repeated that combination and newfound hope gave him the ambition to continue his escape. He crawled across the floor, getting dizzier and dizzier. Ponyboy picked up the phone, dialing his house's number, and listening to it ring, constantly looking up the stairs just in case Vincent came out of his room.

Maybe calling the police would have been the better option since he could probably only call one person, but he had to let his brothers know that he was safe. They would know what to do. They would save him.

" _Hello_?" a voice greeted that Ponyboy didn't recognize. What? Ponyboy was sure that he dialed the right number. Maybe he should try again… There was another shuffle from above him and Ponyboy knew that he didn't have much more time. He had no choice but to trust the person would call for help. " _Hello? Anybody there?_ "

"Seven…" Ponyboy began, whispering so quietly that he barely even heard himself. His voice shook, a bit raspy from how dry his throat was.

" _Seven? Who is this?"_

"D…Six…Nine…"

" _What are you—"_

"S…T…" Another shuffle was above him, followed by a door opening. "One."

"What are you doing?!" Vincent screamed, running down the stairs and pulling the plug out of the wall. He grabbed Ponyboy by the neck, slamming him against the floor. Ponyboy gasped as his oxygen was cut off, hands clutching the shard of glass tighter, reminding him of its existence.

He was armed. He might still have a chance.

His vision started to darken as he shakily brought his arm back with the shard still tightly wrapped in his fingers. Right before Ponyboy could black out, he swung it forward. The shard of glass cut through the man's cheek like it was made out of thin cloth. And just like that, Pony's neck was let go as Vincent let out a cry.

"Son of a bitch!" Vincent screamed as Ponyboy scrambled back, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

Everything happened so quickly that Ponyboy didn't have a chance to even process what Vincent looked like before something slammed across his face, knocking him out.

 **o-o-o**

 **Minutes before the phone call…**

"I need fresh air," Soda muttered, throwing the documents he was reading on the floor. He loped out of the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

"I think we all need air," Darry declared with a deep sigh. He ushered everyone out of the house, looking at the detectives with a silent question of, 'you coming, or not?'

"We're going to stay here. I work better without my train of thought being interrupted," Joseph answered. Richard nodded in agreement. Darry shrugged, exiting the house. On the way out, Two-Bit grabbed a new pack of cigarettes. They all needed to let loose some. Soda surprised them all when he grabbed one and lit it. He stuck it in his mouth with quivering hands.

Inside the house, the phone rang, making the detectives jump. They looked at each other before looking at the door, wondering if they should call the gang in. Finally, Richard got up and answered the phone. "Hello?" On the other end, there was heavy breathing. "Hello? Anybody there?"

It was probably a prank call, Richard reasoned, about to hang up.

" _Seven_ …" someone whispered, halting him. What the….

" _Seven? Who is this?"_

"' _D'…Six…Nine…"_

"What are you—" What was this kid doing?

"' _S'…'T'… One."_

Before Richard could ask another question, a new voice broke out on the other end _. "What the fuck are you doing?!"_ The line went dead and Richard hung up, tilting his head in confusion and concern. Was that Ponyboy? It had to be him, right? Who else could it have been? But what were those numbers and letters about?

"Who was it?" Joseph asked, raising an eyebrow at the ghastly expression on his partner's face.

"Who was who?" Two-Bit asked, waltzing back in. How long has Richard been standing there like the life was sucked out of him?

"Someone called," Richard answered after a moment, swallowing his saliva. He just realized that his mouth was as dry as a desert. "I… I… uh… I think it was Ponyboy."

The quiet house went into an uproar. Soda stormed towards Richard, grabbing his shoulders roughly. "And you didn't let us talk to him? Why didn't you call us in?"

"He wasn't on the line for long. He was whispering and hung up after a few seconds. If I knew that it was him, I would have called you all in."

"What'd he say?" Two-Bit asked anxiously.

Richard shook his head. "It was all rubbish. Just a bunch of numbers and letters. Didn't make any sense. I heard another voice on the other end scream at him before it all went dead. Whoever screamed wasn't happy whatsoever."

Everyone went pale at the thought of what could have happened to Ponyboy after he hung up. "At least we know he's alive," Steve commented, trying to soothe everyone.

"Yeah, maybe… Maybe not after that stunt he pulled," Joseph muttered. "Either way, we have to hurry. What did Ponyboy say?"

"Um… Let's see… The combination was: seven, the letter 'D', six, nine, the letter 'S', the letter 'T'… and the number one," Richard recalled as Joseph jotted everything down.

 _7D69ST1_

Everyone stared at combination quizzically. It did seem like it was "rubbish," as Richard put it.

"It looks like a license plate number," Johnny pointed out, flinching as Joseph bolted off of the couch as if he sat on a pin.

"That's it!" he exclaimed excitedly. After years, they finally had a lead on who the kidnapper was. Finally, he could see the finish line. "We have to run this number by the station and fast."

"I'm afraid of what's going to happen to Ponyboy if we don't hurry. Wanna come?" Richard asked the gang, doing a better job at hiding his excitement.

As everyone left the house to go to the police station, they failed to notice the man sitting in his car, watching the house. As Darry's truck pulled out of the driveway, the man exited the car, pulling out a baseball bat and a Polaroid camera. Before he entered the home, he pulled on a pair of gloves, pressing onto the bandage that adorned his cheek to make sure that blood hadn't seeped through it.

Upon entering the rickety house, he took the familiar sight in. It's been a while since he was inside last. Vincent went over to the television, swinging bat into it, cringing at the loud crash.

A smile crept upon his face. The kid was going to be sorry for pulling that trick on him.

He swung the baseball bat around into everything in the house, throwing glasses and plates and papers around. Once he was satisfied with the mess he made, he took pictures of random angles, stuffing the photos into his pockets. He double checked to make sure he didn't leave anything behind that would lead to someone finding out about who he was before he left the house and started up his car.

There was one more business he needed to take care of something before he could return back to his temporary home.

 _Get rid of the detectives._

 **o-o-o**

"Who owns the car? Who kidnapped Pony?" Two-Bit asked like a kid on a sugar rush. He bounced on the balls of his feet, tapping his fingers in anticipation. He was going to pummel the monster who took Ponyboy once he finds out.

"The car belongs to Donald Lee and his family. He had two kids and a wife that stayed home to take care of them. Donald was a surgeon, but he quit randomly. There were reports saying that he was spouting nonsense of someone following him for months and he wanted to move someplace else where no one could find him or his family," Joseph answered.

"But, of course, he wasn't crazy," Darry continued.

"Nope, doesn't seem like that now. Whoever was following him must have found him and…killed him and his family, taking their place. They stole Mr. Lee's car and money… and probably even his identity and home."

"What's his address?" Steve asked, balling up his fists.

Richard sighed, combing his thinning hair with his hands. This is as far as he was willing to take them. It was getting too dangerous for civilians to get involved. "Not telling you. You lot are going back home. It's too dangerous for you to go to the house. We'll be bringing police to the house. Don't worry. We'll get Ponyboy back to you," Richard reassured. Although the gang looked unsure of the entire situation, they all nodded, leaving the station. A few more hours and they were going to see Pony. The more they pushed, the longer it would take to see him.

Joseph and Richard started to collect everything into their folders. Here they go. They were finally going to catch the criminal. They got up to go to their cars to get their notebooks that they left inside in order to jot the new information down. But as soon as they reached the car, a yell of surprise erupted from Joseph's mouth as a baseball bat was slammed against his head, knocking him unconscious.

Richard froze in place, eyes growing wide as he stared at the armed stranger in shock. His eyes traveled down to the tattoo on his arm before everything kicked in. He turned to escape, his fight or flight reflexes telling him to run. He was right outside the police station. He just needed to step in and he would be safe. But before he could even take a step, the stranger was already upon him, driving the bat down onto his head. Richard's vision darkened as his body crumpled to the ground. The last thing he saw was the wicked smile on the murderer's lips.

When the detective fell to the floor in a heap, Vincent raised the bat again, bringing it down again and again into Richard's head. His skull collapsed like a deflated basketball, blood spewing out like a pool. Chunks of the man's brain and scalp stuck to the bat, the sloshing sound muffled by the cars driving on the highway a couple of blocks away.

After finishing up with Richard, he turned to Joseph and repeated the same process.

Once they were dead, the man pulled out a camera, snapping their photo before leaving the bodies behind. After his car drove away, a receptionist left the building on her break to have a smoke, but, instead, let out a blood curling scream that could be heard from the next state over.

 **o-o-o**

Vincent whistled as he descended the stairs, throwing the photos in front of Ponyboy who seemed like he just woke up. He pulled off the kid's blindfold, stepping behind him and forcing them to look. Ponyboy let out a choked sob as he recognized the torn-up house that he lived his entire life in. It looked like a tornado went through it. Vincent knew where he lived, and he destroyed it. All of the memories he built up in there with all of the items were now destroyed. The sobbing worsened when he saw the graphic images besides the photos of his house. They were of two men that he didn't recognize. Although, their faces were so deformed that he probably wouldn't be able to tell if it was one of his brothers or not. Their heads were smashed in, shards of their skulls were broken apart like broken ice on capping a lake.

"You see this? This is what happens when you disobey me. People get hurt. You're lucky that your family and friends weren't there when I got there. I had to settle with these random people to take out my anger. These people are what's going to happen to your precious gang next time. But, now, we can't risk there being a next time. You're going to have to let something go of yours to make sure that you can never do anything dumb ever again."

"What do… What do you mean?" Ponyboy asked as he heard a blowtorch being lit. He tried to crank his neck around, but Vincent was just out of his sight. He was going to burn him. Oh, God. Vincent was going to burn him. But a nagging voice in the back of his head was screaming at him that he wasn't going to; that what he was going to do was going to be a lot worse. Panic seeped through Ponyboy as he struggled against his restraints. "No, please don't do anything! I won't do it again! I won't disobey again!"

"I can't take that chance anymore," Vincent murmured before a metal plate was placed right in front of his eyes. The metal was so hot that it was blindingly white. The heat made his skin burn, even though it wasn't touching him. But the worse of it was his eyes felt. It was as if his eyes were ripped out of his body, thrown into lava before sticking them back in. They were like two flaming balls. He tried to close his eyes, but Vincent held them open, forcing him to look at the metal plate. He could see his veins crossing his visions, darkness crawling at the edges of his vision as Vincent abacinated him (1). And just like someone flipped off a switch, everything went dark. He could feel Vincent let go of his eyelids and move away. The burning sensation was still there, but it gradually went away.

At first, Ponyboy thought he managed to close his eyes, but he could feel that they were open.

"No…" Ponyboy whimpered as what had happened hit him like a bulldozer. "No, no, no!"

He couldn't see. Everything was all dark.

 _He was blind._

 _Vincent took away his sight._

 **o-o-o**

 **(1). Abacination is a form of torture where one holds a hot piece of metal before someone's eyes, blinding them.**


	6. Into the Rabbit Hole he Goes

**Warning: This chapter contains rape (not detailed because this is still rated T) and the start of depression. Please read with caution.**

 **o-o-o**

Dally slammed the cup down on the coffee table, clearing his throat and grimacing at the sting of alcohol. Music was blaring in his ears. It was so loud that the entire house vibrated with each beat. His eyes shifted across the entire room. Everyone there was chatting with other people or playing some sort of party game, having a good time, without a worry on their minds. They were totally unaware of Ponyboy's disappearance like he never existed in the first place. I mean, why would they? Ponyboy hasn't met any of the people there. But this bothered Dally to no end. How could people be so happy when someone was gone, being tortured or possibly even dead?

He was about to get up to get another drink when a cup was held in front of his face. Dally looked up with a curious but dead expression.

"Vincent," Dally greeted his accomplice, grabbing the cup and taking a swig from it. He spun the liquids a bit, watching the small whirlpool form and disappear.

"So, what happened to you? No offense, man, but you look like shit. I almost couldn't recognize you. You look so much older."

Dally rolled his eyes, passing a glare at the man. "Well, what's it to ya?"

Vincent sat down next to Dally, rubbing at his chin. His eyes stared distantly at a lit-up lamp ahead of him. The light made his faded blue eyes more distinct and vivid. He absently brushed through his shoulder-lengthed blond hair before he pulled it back and tied it. "So, what's been going on with you lately? What got you into this… state?"

Shaking his head, Dally slammed the cup down. "The kid's missing, that's what. He might possibly be dead."

A whistle came out of Vincent's mouth. "Wow. I never knew you felt this way for anyone."

"Man, you're a real dick, you know?"

"So, who's the kid? Johnny? I know that you like him a lot."

"Ponyboy."

"Darry's and Soda's younger brother? He's missing?"

"That's the entire problem." Dally shifted around the room again, scoffing at the lack of empathy everyone else had.

"Oh… I'm sorry… I'll make sure to keep an eye out for him…" Vincent belched a bit. "Anyways… have you thought about my offer?"

"The job? No, I don't want to do it." Dally took that time to look back over to Vincent, who was staring back at him, eyes blank and dull. There was no expression on his face. If Dally were to place the expression that most closely matched it, it would be disgust… but his eyes were so empty that it unnerved him. Dally couldn't help but shift in his seat in uneasiness. Something about that expression was so wrong and so creepy. It was a look that he only saw on the faces on some of the criminals in prison. But as soon as it came, it passed. A smile curved itself onto Vincent's lips—a smile that didn't match his eyes completely. Now that Dally saw that blank expression, he realized that none of the smiles that he had seen on Vincent's face reached his eyes.

"That's a shame. Are you sure? You'll be paid a lot… and have so much fun that it will be the _death of you_." Vincent emphasized those last words and Dally wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, or if he was just imagining it. He was probably just imagining it.

"There's just a lot going on, man."

"Well, fine then. But you'll be sorry…" Vincent then left after downing his own cup and slapping it on the coffee table. "Hey, I know that we only just started to talk, but I got to hit the road. My girlfriend is expecting me, if you know what I mean." Vincent let out a laugh, nudging Dally in the ribs. If Dally was in the mood, he would have gone along with it, but he just waived him off. "I hope you find Ponyboy."

Vincent got up and left the party. When he closed the front door behind him, the smile fell from his lips, cursing under his breath.

 **o-o-o**

As soon as Vincent returned home, he went down the basement. His face was still blank as he stepped off the last step. Every fiber in his body was like static. He felt hollow. All of the emotions that he had been promised were lost in that static-like abyss. But when he looked up to see Ponyboy, looking aimlessly in front of him, he couldn't help but let a smile cross his lips, a euphoric feeling filling up every vein. Ponyboy was like his light in the darkness… the radio signal that takes away the deafening static sounds. Seeing Ponyboy in such agony and pain was like a drug that he was addicted to. Seeing him like that was so… exciting.

Murdering was fine. Each kill gave him a short dose of adrenaline. Killing was like a game to him, but it was never enough and was short-lived. Kidnapping and just extending the pain and seeing Ponyboy hang onto life was like a bottomless pit of food to feast on.

For as long as what Vincent could remember, he never felt anything. He was never happy or felt sadness in someone dying. He always just felt like a shell of a human. He learned quickly though and just mimicked the emotions that he saw on other people and tried his best to be friendly with everyone. If he couldn't feel, he might as well just fake it, right?

When he hit puberty, he found the remedy of this issue of being emotionally numb.

He remembered when he first took a life. His father was beating his mother, the only person who cared about him at the time, in front of him. Even though he knew that he was supposed to feel something—scared, angry, or even despair—he felt nothing. Even when his mother was screaming at him to help her, pleading and sobbing. Vincent just stared blankly at her, watching as everything unfolded. But he also knew that he was supposed to stop his father.

So, he did.

Vincent remembered grabbing a knife from the counter and driving it into his father's back, watching as he fell to the floor in a heap after yelling out in pain. He remembered the blood that seeped out of the wound as Vincent removed the knife from the body. And, for the first time, he felt something. It wasn't sadness or regret. No, he couldn't have cared less about his father dying. Vincent felt that rush of adrenaline that gave him a shot of happy gas.

His mother whimpered next to him, pushing her husband's body off of her. She stared at her son with fear and horror in her eyes. Vincent felt that rush start to dissipate, and he wanted to feel more. MORE.

The knife drove into his mother over and over again.

 **More.**

 **More.**

 **More.**

So, Vincent kept killing. But it was never enough. The feeling he received from slaughtering people never satisfied him.

It probably would surprise anyone if Vincent admitted that he had never kidnapped someone before. Ponyboy was the first person, a decision he didn't regret. He never imagined that he could get so much pleasure from extending someone's pain. Ponyboy was the only one.

 _Ponyboy was the only person that made him feel like a human._

He needed Ponyboy to make him feel. Ponyboy was his medicine.

But looking at him also reminded him of Dally and the fact that someone would have to be sorry. By default, it had to be Ponyboy to pay the price.

Vincent roughly grabbed Ponyboy's hair and forced him to look upwards. Ponyboy could only look in the general direction that his head was pulled towards, but it wasn't like he could focus on something.

Ponyboy had gotten over the initial shock of being blind, but he still wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to waking up to darkness… well, it wasn't total darkness… He was doing better, and his eyes were healing a bit. He could see bright light from the basement windows and a very blurry figure moving. The figure was so blurry that it just seemed like he was looking at a stick figure, but it was progress. He couldn't navigate around well when Vincent allowed his wrists to be free. It wasn't like Ponyboy could escape anymore.

His ankle was doing a little better, but it was still so messed up. He could put some pressure on it. If Ponyboy didn't know what sort of situation that he was in, he could have thought his life was getting better and Vincent was starting to care about his well-being. He was being fed and given water more often. He just had to follow orders and not talk back.

Of course, he still was given the initial beatings, the cutting of his skin, and his body being used to snuff out cigarettes. But, Ponyboy started to get used to that happening to him. It still terrified him, and he would never get used to the agonizing pain. However, even though this was still happening, he was a bit optimistic about the entire situation. It could have been a lot worse, he always had to remind himself.

But that reality cracked when he heard Vincent grumble in annoyance. He was in a bad mood.

"What's… What's wrong?" Ponyboy asked, wanting to back away in a corner. ' _Be nice, Ponyboy. Just be nice…'_

"Someone is getting in the way of my plans and you will have to pay the price for them," Vincent answered.

Ponyboy's heart stopped, stomach clenching tightly. He felt like he was going to throw up. "M-Me?" His voice was quivering so much that he could hardly understand himself. "I didn't d-do anything wr-wrong."

"No, you didn't. But someone has to pay. And you're here." Ponyboy could feel the man drag his hands down his body, going lower and lower. Instinctively, Ponyboy pulled his legs in, in an attempt to shield himself from the kidnapper's touch. He wasn't dumb. He might have been young and didn't use his head over half of the time, but he wasn't stupid. He knew where this was going, and he definitely didn't want it.

"Don't touch me!" he cried out, slapping Vincent's hands away, knowing that he was digging himself into a deeper hole. He tried to crawl away, but Vincent grabbed him by the ankles, digging his fingers into the fucked up one, causing Ponyboy to yelp and cry out at the sharp sting. Vincent dragged him closer, forcing his legs open and pinned his limbs down. Ponyboy was then reminded about how naked he really was.

 _Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. No. Please, no._

"I'm doing you a favor." Favor his ass! "You won't have to be embarrassed about being a virgin anymore. I'm going to make you feel good and you're going to be showing me your true colors… your true intentions."

"Let me go! I don't want this!" Ponyboy squirmed and struggled, trying to break free, but the man that was on top of him was so much stronger and Ponyboy felt so weak from not eating enough to fulfill his energy needs.

"But you do. I know that you're secretly a slut. You've wanted this. I'm just surprised that no one has taken you yet… Have you felt yourself up before thinking about being fucked? Have you imagined me feeling you up?"

"Shut up, shut up!"

A large hand reached down and fondled Ponyboy, causing him to yelp and struggle more. "Stop it! I don't want it! Stop touching me!"

"But your body is already so turned on… Do you really want me to stop?" Vincent whispered in his ear, causing Ponyboy to shiver. Ponyboy was absolutely horrified of himself. He didn't want Vincent to touch him, but he was ashamed to admit that his body was indeed responding to the stimuli. Ponyboy wanted to die.

"No, it's not! Just stop!"

"Your mouth is saying one thing, but your body really wants it. It's been waiting for this."

Everything from then on went slowly. Even though Ponyboy was screaming and struggling, Vincent didn't stop. Each minute felt like a millennium. Even after Vincent pulled out of him after both of them (as Ponyboy was ashamed of his body betraying him) climaxed, Ponyboy could feel his touch all over him and feel the man still pounding into him.

Vincent left him on the ground. Ponyboy's body was limp like a corpse. His face was staring ahead of him emotionlessly and dully. If it wasn't for him breathing, blinking, and the streams of tears cascading down his face, anyone would have passed him off as dead. He felt like the man had drilled him hollow, full of nothing but self-deprecating words.

"You know, I'm the only person who truly cares about you," Vincent said, zipping his pants back up.

'Bullshit,' Ponyboy wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to talk.

"Why else would you have not been found yet? I've been watching everything, but it seems like your brothers, the police, your friends…they all gave up on finding you."

 _That's not true…_ Ponyboy tried to tell himself, but those words soon changed to, ' _please, don't let that be true.'_

"It's been months since you were gone. Three months, to be precise," Vincent lied. "They all moved on. They seem so much happier as well."

 _No, that's not true! They wouldn't forget about him! They love him!_

"Darry is finally getting a chance to relax and not work as hard. He's getting more money so that he could finally get to go to college. Soda too, although not the college part! He's finally able to have fun with his friend, Steve, without you tagging along. He finally gets his own room and can finally sleep without you keeping him awake. Two-Bit isn't stuck on babysitting duty anymore and he can actually get girls and go to parties. Dally never cared about you. He just tolerated you. And, Johnny? Well, with you being gone, he finally got to get out of his shell. He doesn't have someone depressing him or holding him back. You were always the person that held everyone back. With you out of the picture, they are all happy. They celebrated soon after you went missing, in fact. A huge party where everyone was rejoicing."

''No… shut up…" Ponyboy muttered, sobbing. It wasn't true! He was just saying that! It couldn't be true… right?

"Wake up, Ponyboy, and get over yourself. The world is not centered around you. But, to me, you are important, despite what they say. You are so special to me. You make me… happy. I… love you. I will always care about you and want you."

Ponyboy felt like throwing up. He was surprised he held it in this long. "They love me."

"No, they don't. You should see them! But… you know… they wouldn't want to see you. They wouldn't want you to rain on their parade. They wouldn't even accept you back. You're disgusting to them. They don't want someone as slutty and dirty as you."

Ponyboy couldn't help it anymore. He moved on his stomach, feeling the beef jerky he ate that morning come rushing out past his mouth. It stung his throat, making his mouth taste like crap. Vincent started to pat at his back and all Ponyboy wanted to do is rip his skin inside-out and hide within himself. He just wanted all the contact to stop. He just wanted Vincent to stop touching him.

"There, there. It's all right…" Vincent soothed. "But, you're going to have to clean that up, you know that, right? It's your mess…"

He understood. Nodding, Ponyboy pushed himself up, despite his body screaming at him to just fall back down and go to sleep. He could feel blood trickle down his thigh as he got onto his knees. Vincent sighed, pushing Ponyboy down, his face hitting the pool of vomit.

"Not with a mop. I want you to swallow your food back up. Food is expensive. Don't waste it." He's got to be kidding… Ponyboy couldn't handle anymore today. "Do it!"

Flinching, Ponyboy stuck out his tongue and started to slowly lap away the vomit. He gagged at each contact he made, stomach telling him to spit it out again. It did not taste like beef jerky like he was hoping it would. He wanted to throw it all up again but swallowed it back down each time his bile rose up his throat again. He sobbed as he could feel Vincent smirking down at his pathetic, quivering form.

"That's a good boy," he muttered before leaving the boy to his own vomit. Once the door closed and the rest of the bile was back in his body, Ponyboy collapsed, curling in on himself and cried.

 **o-o-o**

 **A few days after the deaths of the detectives…**

The house was silent as they waited for more news from the detectives. They were always there, just waiting for the news that Ponyboy was back. Soda practically leaped off of the couch when there was a knocking on the door. He swung open the door, expecting to see the detectives on the other side, however, was surprised to be greeted by a policeman.

"Did you find him?" Soda asked, hopeful.

The policeman looked at his shoes before looking at Soda with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. But we still have no idea where Ponyboy is."

"What?" Soda's voice came out quietly, almost breathy. He backed away, shaking his head. They promised that they would save Ponyboy and bring him back. They promised!

"Then why are you here?" Darry asked.

"I came to inform you that the detectives on your brother's case, Joseph and Richard, were found dead a few days ago."

"Fuck…" Steve whispered.

"W-What happened?" Soda asked, covering his mouth with his hands.

"Right after leaving the station, it seems, they were found by a receptionist in the parking lot. Their heads were bashed in by a blunt object."

"That's terrible…"

"What about Ponyboy?" Two-Bit asked. "The detectives knew where he was! They must have written it down."

The policeman shook his head, shrugging. "All of the files of Ponyboy's case are missing. We are back to square one. I'm sorry."

"But they had an address! A license plate!"

"Well, do you remember what it was?"

"No, but—"

"Then we don't have any leads to where Ponyboy might be. I'm sorry."

The policeman left and Darry went over and slammed the door shut, clutching his fists tightly. What were they going to do?


	7. Hope? Hope is for Suckers

**This chapter was really hard for some reason. I had writer's block the entire way through. Sorry that it might not be quality content. ^^;**

 **Also, I am starting to get a lot of requests from people for one-shot ideas. This is fine. I am taking requests. I am putting instructions on how to ask for requests on the bottom of the chapter.**

 **If you are** _ **white collar black wolf**_ **,** _ **waffles14**_ **, or** _ **Wafflesinthehouse**_ **, please note that your requests are in the process of being written. It might take a month though. Sorry, I've been really busy.**

 **o-o-o**

Grunts erupted from Ponyboy as he struggled against the straps that held him in the chair that Vincent had placed him in not that long ago. It clattered against the ground, creaking at each jerk. He wanted to scream and push himself back to the corner to help trick his mind that he was safe, because, even though he knew that the straps were just straps, all he could think about were Vincent's body pinning him down.

"Stay still!" Vincent commanded as he picked up the pliers from the table. He gripped Ponyboy's jaw, squeezing it until his jaw opened from the amount of pressure. The boy gagged as Vincent shoved the pliers into his mouth, gripping onto one of the molars. Just like the kidnapper had plipped off a switch, Ponyboy stopped struggling, eyes growing wide as the pressure on his tooth increased. When Vincent started to jiggle the tooth a bit, Ponyboy shut his eyes tightly out of reflex, hands gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly that he felt like they were about to snap. He now understood why so many people were scared of dentists.

Vincent moved the tooth back and forth again, this time managing to make it crackle, sounding like a firecracker had been lit. The tooth jabbed at a nerve, sending searing pain throughout Pony's mouth. The pliers muffled his screams as the pliers kept jiggling the tooth as if a pillow was being pressed to his mouth. However, his screams were completely let out as Vincent tore out his molar in one fluid motion. As soon as the tooth was pulled completely out, it was like it was a cork holding a liquid in. Blood practically erupted from the open wound, filling up his mouth quickly. His tongue instantly went to the area where his molar once was, feeling an empty hole in its place. The taste of iron filled up his sense of taste, making him grimace.

 _Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._

The pain was overwhelming. It felt like he was just shot in the mouth. Ponyboy opened his mouth to cry out, but all that came out was him gargling as the blood poured out of his mouth like a waterfall (1).

He wasn't supposed to bleed this much. Something was wrong. Why wasn't the flow of blood stopping?

 _He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die._

Pony was breathing erratically, letting some of the blood fall down his throat. The thickness of the liquid was overbearing, making it harder to breathe, but he somehow managed.

When Vincent dropped the bloodied tooth and pliers back on the table, Ponyboy thought it was finally going to be over.

But it wasn't over yet. Vincent grabbed a drill next, pressing the trigger. The sound of the screw spinning around alerted Ponyboy as he looked in the general direction of the sound. Again, his head was grabbed as the drill spun close to his head, slowly getting closer and closer. He tried to jerk his head away, but it only prompted for Vincent to hold his head tighter and move the drill faster. The sound increased as it got closer, sounding a lot more like a menacing, giant mosquito.

Just when the drill was about to touch him, the doorbell rang. Vincent instantly took his finger off the trigger and looked up the door.

' _Who could that be?'_ he mused.

Ponyboy sighed in relief when the drill was placed back on the table. "Don't act relieved," Vincent barked. "You're going back into the room."

It took a moment for Ponyboy to realize what he meant. If it was possible, he grew even more panicked.

"No! Please don't put me back in there!" Ponyboy blubbered, blood spewing too quickly from his mouth for him to speak clearly. The straps were removed, and his arm was grabbed, yanking him towards the soundproof room. "Don't put me back inside! Stop it!"

He wiggled in Vincent's grips, straining his wrists. But he didn't care about the pain. All he cared about was not being locked in that room again.

Vincent practically threw him in the room, throwing a bucket at him right afterward. "Use that so that your blood doesn't get anywhere," he urged before closing the door.

Sound was instantly cut off. All he could hear was his ragged breathing, his pounding heart, and his blood exiting his body, dropping into the bucket that he held under his chin. He rocked in place, fingers scratching at the bucket. It was all so loud. Everything was so goddamn loud. How could any of this even be this loud? Why hasn't he stopped bleeding?

Everything was too much.

Oh, God, he couldn't take much more of this. He couldn't keep this up.

Tears fell down his face. He wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted to die!

It hurt too much.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He just wanted everything to just stop.

 **He wanted everything to end.**

' _Why don't you just kill yourself then?'_ A voice whispered in the back of his brain. 'You won't have to feel any more pain if you just let go.'

He couldn't die though. He had to continue… for the gang. He had to keep living, even if it meant suffering.

' _They aren't looking for you. They're happy that you're gone. They don't want you back into their lives so that you can ruin their peace.'_

That's not true! It can't be true! He knows them! They wouldn't give up on him! He was still alive!

' _But it is, and you know it. Why else haven't they found you yet? They don't want someone as pathetic and disgusting as you. They don't want you back. They don't like you. No one does.'_

No… That's not true… Ponyboy rested his forehead on the bucket's rim, shutting his eyes. His chest hurt. It felt like someone had wrapped their hands around his heart and was squeezing it as hard as they could.

' _You're a tag-along,'_ a different voice whispered. He instantly recognized it as Steve's voice. And, through the darkness, he could see a very misty, distorted figure that he could make out as his brother's best friend. Which was weird since Ponyboy knew that he couldn't see squat. It had to be a hallucination. Steve couldn't be there. _'Isn't that right, Soda?'_

"Soda?" Ponyboy asked, looking up. He saw another distorted figure next to Steve. Ponyboy looked hopefully at his brother, trying to find relief in his happy-go-lucky expression that he often carried. Even if it was a hallucination, any bit of relief would do so much. However, Soda's expression morphed into that of annoyance, a look that Ponyboy had never seen on him before.

' _Why do you always have to ruin everything! I always have to take care of you and bring you everywhere!'_ Soda growled. His annunciations were sharp, and each word felt like a knife was being dug into his chest _._ It didn't sound like his brother at all. _'Ever since you were born, you took everything from me!'_

 _It's not real! It's not real!_ Ponyboy tried to repeat those words in his head, but, with each second, he was losing faith in those words. If these were hallucinations, he didn't know what was considered real.

' _We are real,'_ another person snarked. Darry. _'You're a failure. I always wanted to put you in a foster home. I would've too if I didn't promise Mom and Dad that I would take care of you. I would have had a good life if you weren't there to ruin it!'_

That couldn't be true! They all cared about him. They all had fun together and laughed together. He remembered all of those memories that would have normally put a smile on his face to just recall. He remembered those deep conversations he would have with Johnny and Soda. He remembered cracking jokes with Two-Bits and watching Mickey Mouse. He remembered the smile he put on Dally's face all the times he helped him steal from a store. He remembered Darry's proud smiles when he showed him his report card or the laugh he emitted whenever they went to play football. He remembered the small gripes he had with Steve, both silently loving being able to insult each other with no repercussion. He remembered it all. All of those huge smiles and just plain loving being in each other's companies.

But was that actually right?

Was he just creating fake memories that he lied to himself about being real so often that he ended up believing them?

Ponyboy watched as all of his memories started to change. He watched as everyone's smiles fell straight off of their faces, and chilling glares blared down at him. They never liked him. They glared at him and rolled their eyes at everything he did. They always tried to make plans, but he always butted in. They talked about him behind his back, insulting him and complaining about him.

Oh, God. They never liked him. They were only pretending.

Did anyone actually like him?

No… No one does, and no one ever will. No one will ever love him, and this is the fate that he was cursed with since childbirth. Ponyboy had to wonder what he did in a past life to deserve such a punishment.

' _You're just a whiney kid that only wants attention on yourself,'_ Steve sneered.

' _We were never friends,'_ Johnny commented.

It was getting to be too much. Each sentence shoved him closer and closer to the edge. He felt like a bottle that was being stuffed full, about to explode.

' _You're an annoying brat,'_ Dally added.

Stop it. It hurt too much.

' _You're a disappointment to us all,'_ Two-Bit hissed. _'I was always stuck with you. I could have had so much more fun without you.'_

Shut up! Shut up! Shut Up!

Ponyboy covered his ears with his hands. He just wanted everyone to shut up and leave him be!

' _Leave me alone!' P_ onyboy pleaded. Everything was so loud! Even though he covered his ears, the voices were just getting louder and louder, drowning him with deafening words. He couldn't take much more of this, It felt like, in one more push, he would plummet down the cliff.

' _I wish that we were never related.'_

' _We hate you and wish that you never existed in the first place,'_ they all said simultaneously.

Ponyboy could feel his heart shatter. The hand that was squeezing it had succeeded in breaking it. He choked on the leftover blood in his mouth. Warm tears were pouring down his face. His chest was clutching so hard.

It hurt. Everything hurt. The pain in his mouth was nowhere near the emotional pain he felt.

What was he even doing, still trying to live? What was the point of it anymore? No one was coming. He was alone.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't do this anymore!

He just wanted to die!

The door to the room opened, silencing the voices that were taunting him. Ponyboy couldn't help but let out a relief. Vincent made the voices go away. He made them all mute.

"Get out," Vincent ordered. "We're going to continue where we left off."

 **o-o-o**

 **Many hours later…**

Dally and Two-Bit were leaning against a wall, having a smoke. They both needed to get out for a bit after searching for Ponyboy that day. As much as they didn't want to believe it, they were beginning to lose hope in finding Pony. All evidence was lost, the police weren't actively looking anymore, they checked every nook and cranny in Tulsa, and it's been too long. It was a wonder how they even held onto hope for that long in the first place.

For all they knew, Ponyboy wasn't even in Tulsa, let along the state. The world was too big to search for one measly person.

That is until someone walked to the payphone that was a few feet away from them. Since it was so close, they couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I went over to his place," the man began after the other person on the line answered. "Yeah, we're still doing the job. But there's been a change of plans. We're not going to get him closer to us, we are going straight to him. Forget about the whole lie about the job offer that was first planned. We are just going straight in for the kill."

To-Bit and Dally exchanged looks. What was he talking about?

"Yeah… he's taking this whole thing too far… If it wasn't for the pay, I wouldn't be doing this. When I went over there… he wasn't alone. I heard someone else…"

There was a pause before he continued. "No, there was no orgy going on. I think he had someone. It took a while for him to get to the front door like he was trying to stash something… or someone… Anyways, I think we are in way over our heads or something, but a job is a job, right? When will you arrive?"

Another pause.

"Okay, see you then… Remember to bring a photo of the guy's face that we have to take care of. I didn't really look at it, so I don't know who to look out for. I think his name was… er… his name started with a 'D'… Er… What was the name of that city in Texas? Dallas! Yeah! Dallas Winston."

The two greasers snapped their attention to the guy before looking back at each other again with a silent agreement: they couldn't let this guy get away.

"Anyways, see you soon, man. Let's get this job over and done with." The man hung up with a sigh. Dally instantly went into action and stormed over to him, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt and pushing him against the wall.

"What the hell?!" the man exclaimed, glaring at Dally. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Who are you?" Dally snarled. Two-Bit came behind Dally, a glare on his face. He reached into his pocket and flicked out a switch-blade. The man's eyes flashed to the blade and he licked his lips in nervousness. "Tell us everything or we're going to do a lot more to you than pull out a blade."

The man then suddenly smiled, scoffing. "You're bluffing."

Dally reached over and grabbed Two-Bit's blade. He re-slammed the man against the wall, pressing the blade to his throat. "Want to test me, man?"

The blade dug into the stranger a little deeper, drawing some blood. A trickle of blood dribbled down his throat, mixing with sweat along the way. The man closed his eyes, letting out a shuttered breath. His smile faltered. "No…"

"Then tell me who you are! Better yet, who you met at the house that wants me dead!"

Realization hit the man like a bulldozer. "You're Dallas Winston? Shit… What are the chances that you'll be here?" The man rolled his head back against the wall. "I guess the job is compromised. It's not worth doing after all."

"Well?"

"I don't know who I am working for right now. I don't ask questions. If someone wants someone killed, I do it for a fee. The guy didn't want to do it himself. I now know why… You're wild… Dangerous… You must have done something huge to piss him off."

"Where does the guy live?" The blade pressed in deeper, causing him to grunt.

"Some house a bit from Yukon! I can give you the paper with address if you want."

"Yeah, do that," Two-Bit cut in. "But, first, tell me about the whole bit about what you heard in the house."

"What about it? I just heard someone scream out… It didn't sound sexual though. More like, in pain. But then he must have stopped the person from crying or something. Man, I don't know. Just let me go. I didn't want to do this job anyways. The job is too much in deep waters!"

Dally growled and pressed the knife further in his neck. "Dally," Two-Bit said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let him go."

Dally spun around and glared at Two-Bit. "Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yeah, I am. Look, before you do anything… I think we have the location of where Pony might be. Might as well not alert whoever has him and ruin our chances of finding him."

Dally contemplated for a moment before turning back to the man who was slightly quivering in fear. "You don't tell a soul about this, ya dig?"

"Yeah! Yeah! I dig. I'm just going to go home and pick up another job. I'll tell him that I had something come up in a few days time. Just let me go, man."

With one last shove, Dally let go. The man scrambled to fish out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Dally before scurrying away. Dally opened it up, scanned over the writing, and nodded at Two-Bit. They had an idea where the kid was. Hopefully, it was right.

 **o-o-o**

When they got to Darry's house, a cop car was pulled up. The two looked at each other one last time before entering. As soon as they did, Soda and Darry looked at them. Soda flashed them a small smile before standing up and walking over to them.

"What's going on?" Two-Bit asked.

"Nothing much. They just wanted to look around and ask a few more questions about what happened to the house," Soda answered, crossing his arms. He shifted his weight on one foot, rubbing his thumbs against his skin to soothe himself.

"You still haven't cleaned up?" Dally asked.

"No… We've been too busy with everything going on…"

They remembered when they walked back home, of course, Dally wasn't present at that moment. They only left their house for no more than two hours. But, in that short time span, someone managed to break in and tore apart their house. Everything was in absolute disarray. Fortunately, nothing was stolen and no one was in the house at the time. They were slightly thankful.

"Anyways, why are you guys happy?" Soda asked, noticing the huge smile on Two-Bit's lips.

"Someone wanted to kill Dally!" he exclaimed, causing the police to look at them with questioning eyes.

"That's not a good thing," Darry retorted, quirking up an eyebrow.

"No, you don't get it! He had an address. I think Dally is actually really involved in everything. The guy was talking to a partner or something about how this one guy wanted Dally dead but didn't want blood on his hands. When he visited the guy who hired him, he heard someone screaming in pain and not the sexual kind… although, I would like—"

"Two-Bit, get on with it."

"Right! We think that Ponyboy might be there! We got the address! We can go get Ponyboy now!"

Dally pulled out the piece of paper and handed it to Soda who was staring at it like it was the holy grail. The house went silent as they waited for everything to completely process. But, before Soda or Darry could even truly react, one of the policemen plucked the paper from Soda's hands.

"Wha—" Soda began.

"We'll be taking that. You aren't going to go save Ponyboy," the policeman said.

"What are you talking about? We have the address! We need to save him!" Darry exclaimed, standing up.

"And we will go to the house. But you can't just go over to someone's house and terrorize whoever is living there with questions and you can't just barge into their house and look around without a search warrant. Besides, it might be a fake address, and the kidnapper might be too dangerous for a civilian. Don't worry. We will get someone to check out the house."

"Okay, but please hurry…" Soda murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear. The policemen nodded and exited the house. No one could keep a smile off of their faces. Although most times, everything turned on them and went badly, they couldn't help but feel hope.

 **o-o-o**

Ponyboy's stomach rumbled, his throat dryer than the desert. He laid on his side, stared into the dark abyss of his vision. How long has it been since he last ate? The last time was with him eating his own vomit. As if answering his call, something was thrown in front of him, the vibrant scent of jerky wafted into his nostrils. Ponyboy's stomach turned, clutching hard. He was so hungry. He needed to eat.

Ponyboy reached over, groping around for the jerky. He brought it to his mouth but froze.

' _Why are you trying to eat? What's the point? No one is coming to get you. Vincent is trying to keep you alive. Why don't you just die? The pain would stop. Everything would be better. Everyone would be happy but Vincent. Don't you want the pain to stop?'_

He did. He wanted to die.

Ponyboy dropped the jerky.

"What are you doing? Eat the food! I bought that for you, so eat it!" Vincent commanded, grabbing the jerky and pressing it to Ponyboy's zipped-shut mouth. Pony shook his head, earning a frustrated growl from Vincent. "Fine, starve. I don't care."

He received a kick in the stomach, causing him to double over.

He just wanted the pain to stop.

 **o-o-o**

 **Footnotes:**

 **(1). This does not occur for many people, but people who just removed a tooth could bleed a lot of over thirty hours. I wrote that part, recalling to personal experiences. When I had a tooth removed, bleeding was so intense that it completely filled up my mouth about every five minutes. It was like this for over thirty hours… it was more like forty hours. My parents just gave me a bucket to bleed in. I also went through that entire surgical process without being numbed or put out. I think I developed a resistance for numbing. I was given fifteen numbing shots because it didn't work. Eventually, I just gave up and let the dentists do their thing and just suffered. I remembered everything.**

* * *

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	8. Marionette with a String Around its Neck

**Sorry, this is a short update. I've been really busy.**

 **o-o-o**

He was so weak, constantly going between consciousness and unconsciousness. It felt like he was running a fever with how his skin felt like it was crawling. But, even though everything was sluggish, his heart was beating erratically, like his body didn't know how to deal with his situation. His head pounded and his throat was so dry that it felt like it was going to flake away. His lips were chapped and cracked, but Ponyboy didn't know if it was from the beatings or from the dehydration.

Ponyboy was so delirious that he didn't notice Vincent's heavy footsteps approaching him.

"Water… Dying…" a voice called out, sounding far away. It sounded like someone was trying to talk to him while his head was dunked under water. "Need…Drink…"

"Hm?" Ponyboy managed to get out, unable to form any words.

"Water…Drink…"

He was hearing voices again. He just wanted them to shut up and leave them alone. Ponyboy tried to bring his hands to his ears, but he was just too tired to care that much. Ponyboy just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to sleep forever and never wake up again. Yeah… That sounds nice…

As he repositioned his head again to become more comfortable, Vincent grabbed him by the armpit and yanked him into a sitting position. Pony groaned in displeasure, trying to push himself back down on the floor, but, instead, he just let his body go limp in the hold. Something wet touched his lips and he felt instant relief. However, it also snapped Ponyboy out of his drowsiness. He tried to push away from Vincent who was trying to force him to open his mouth, but his arms would only raise a few inches before falling back down, too weak to be even be lifted upwards. So, instead, Ponyboy jerked backward uselessly.

Vincent pinched his jaws tightly, pulling the boy closer whilst wrenching his mouth open.

"Drink this!" Vincent screamed, pouring water into his mouth.

No, he didn't want to. He locked up his esophagus in refusal, trying to turn his head away, but it was futile. He couldn't do anything in that weak state.

The water quickly filled his mouth, dribbling down the side of his face and onto the floor. Vincent then closed his mouth and held it shut, forcing him to actually swallow the water. It was hard, and even though he tried to drink it, it felt like his throat was rejecting the liquid altogether. Fortunately, he managed to let some of it down, but it felt like the water was a spiky solid that was stabbing knives into his throat as it slid down. Ponyboy cringed, whimpering slightly. It was too much for him. The pain mixed with the dryness of his throat made it unbearable for him to continue drinking. He choked, but, no matter what, Vincent kept his mouth closed, only letting a few droplets of water to slip past his lips.

It took an antagonizing long time until all of the water that was in his mouth went down his throat. He gasped as he was able to breathe air properly again.

Vincent fed him more water which he took greedily. It still was painful, but he was getting used to it. The more water he drank, the more he forgot that he was trying to not drink anything. It was bliss when the pain stopped, like a paradise. He never knew drinking water could be so heavenly until now.

"What the hell were you thinking? I gave you water before, why haven't you been drinking it?" Vincent growled. "Were you trying to die?"

Ponyboy didn't answer. He chewed at his bottom lip, but that was all the confirmation that Vincent needed. "You were trying to leave me? I told you that you could never leave…" Vincent continued, voice becoming chillingly low, so low that it sent vibrations down Pony's spine. "If you leave me, I will have to do something drastic. You and other people will get hurt if you leave. I don't want you dead and I know that you don't want to die either."

"You don't… You don't want me dead?" Ponyboy curiously croaked, voice so raspy that he sounded like a frog.

"No… but that doesn't mean that I'll let you get off easily from this…"

What?

Vincent walked away from him, picking up a knife. The blade gleamed in the little lighting of the basement, shining onto the madman's crooked teeth. He loped back over to Pony, gently grazing the blade down his face to his neck. Ponyboy gritted his teeth, tilting his head upwards in an attempt to have more distance between the tip of the knife and his neck. He gulped, feeling the blade dig into him, causing a small trickle of blood to fall down his neck.

The knife went further down his body. When it reached ribs, he dug the knife in, deep enough for blood to pool out but shallow enough to not become deadly only if the wounds are treated afterward.

"How about I brand you, right here?" The knife touched his stomach. "That way, people will know that I will always have you."

Ponyboy rapidly shook his head. "No, I'm not going to leave you. People won't find me or have to look at me. Only you." It made Ponyboy sick to say those words, but it seemed to please Vincent a bit… or so he hoped.

"Then, it will be just for me." The knife dug in, deeper than the cut on his chest. Ponyboy cried out and whimpered as the very sharp knife spun around on his skin, becoming like a scribble. The blood was exiting from the wound so quickly that it was a wonder how Vincent was able to tell what he was drawing. The cuts formed intricate, cursive letters. But it wasn't enough. Even though seeing Ponyboy be in such agony gave him pleasure, he wanted to see more.

An idea formed in his head.

Vincent pulled out his belt, putting it in Ponyboy's mouth to use as something to bite on. He grabbed the boy's hand.

"This is going to be most enjoyable," was all Vincent said before the knife dug into his hand, cutting in to just go underneath the skin. He tilted the knife and slowly started to peel the skin off like an apple. The pain was even worse than the cutting on his torso. Ponyboy bit down hard on the leather belt, screaming. His hand shook making the entire process even more painful. Because of his shaking, Vincent had to constantly reinsert the knife and remove it when it cut in too deep.

It continued like that until a good portion of the skin on his hand was peeled off. Ponyboy was starting to feel light headed from the amount of blood loss. It was a weird feeling to be dizzy while he was blind.

Vincent walked away from him before quickly returning. He fastened a rope around his neck, pulling tightly. Ponyboy gasped as breathing became difficult. The other end of the rope was tethered to the pole like a leash. He then zip-tied his hands again.

"I'll be right back. I need to buy more bandages," he informed. "Don't move or else the noose becomes tighter and don't you dare do anything to leave me, or else."

Ponyboy slowly nodded, still twitching from the pain. Vincent left, leaving him alone to his thoughts again.

 _Failure. You're a failure._

Ponyboy shook his head. The voices were back. It's been a bit of time since he last heard them, but they were back and still so loud. It sounded like someone was right behind him screaming into his ears. A part of him wished that Vincent was back to make the voices go away like he always did.

 _You couldn't even kill yourself correctly. You're a disappointment._

' _Shut up, shut up, shut up!'_ Ponyboy pleaded.

He dug his fingers into his peeled hand. He couldn't feel much, surprisingly. He probably lost too much blood to be able to process everything correctly. It only helped lower the volume of the voices a bit, but it helped. Even a little bit of help was so much.

These insulting words screamed at him for maybe an hour or so, when he heard a loud knock on the door that shook the house. But, of course, no one answered. Again, the knocking happened and Ponyboy jumped a bit.

' _It's all in your head, Ponyboy. You're just hearing things,'_ he tried to reason with himself, yelping when the banging happened again.

"Open up, it's the police!" someone screamed.

The police? For a brief moment, Ponyboy rose his head up, hope filling him. But then he remembered that no one was actually searching for him. The police were only an illusion. It was just his brain trying to confuse him again.

The knocking happened again. "If you don't open up, we will forcefully open this door!"

Several minutes passed and nothing happened. They must have left, Ponyboy mused. It was that or he really did imagine it. But then there was a huge bang and crash like something huge was knocked down. Ponyboy shrieked as heavy footsteps patrolled around the house.

' _Please, let this be just an illusion…'_ Ponyboy begged to whoever was listening.

Some of the footsteps reached the front of the basement door, making his blood run cold.

' _Please don't open it. Please don't open it.'_

But, of course, who was listening?

The door opened and he could blurrily see some sort of light shining at him.

"Down here!" a person screamed. They descended the stairs and Ponyboy's reaction should have been to pull towards them and plead for them to help him. But it was the exact opposite. Instead, Ponyboy found himself pushing away, zip-ties digging into his wrists until they started to bleed. The noose around his neck tightened as he painfully dug his heels into the floor to push himself backward, not able to get far. He wheezed as his air was cut off, but even though he couldn't breathe, he kept trying to uselessly push himself backward. The noose only got tighter and tighter and he started to feel faint.

"Get away from me!" he screamed (more like gasped out). Vincent was going to be mad. He was going to punish him. He was going to punish them. He was going to punish him! It would all be his fault. He was in so much trouble.

He didn't want Vincent to get mad. He wanted him to be happy. He didn't want to get hurt any more or hurt other people. Not anymore.

"Easy, kid. You're safe. We are going to get you out of here. We are going to help you."

Ponyboy didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay.

"Get away! I don't want to go! He'll be mad! He'll hurt me!"

"He's not going to hurt you. You will be put into our protection. Please, kid. You're hurting yourself… don't pull away. You're making the rope tighter."

A hand touched his shoulder, causing Ponyboy to jerk away so fast that it caused whiplash. The hand was instantly removed, instead reappearing at the zip-ties. "I'm going to cut this off, okay? Then, we are going to get you to a hospital. Jesus Crist, your hand…"

In shame, Ponyboy tried to hide his hands away, but he wasn't sure where the policeman was. The zip-ties were cut, and Ponyboy instantly reached out and hugged the pole he was tied to like his life depended on it. In his case, he might as well was. He couldn't leave. He just couldn't.

"Come on…" the man sighed before turned to whoever else was in the basement. "He's not complying."

"We have to get him out, no matter what. Just yank him off after getting the rope off. It doesn't matter if he likes it or not."

"Yes, sir." A hand touched his neck and Ponyboy weakly kicked the man in the torso, screaming at the jolt of pain that shot through his body. "Christ, kid. You're only hurting yourself!" The noose was pulled off, letting air reenter his lungs once more.

A jacket was draped over his shoulders before hands wrapped around his body, pulling him away from the pole, but Ponyboy only tightened his grip, even though every inch of him was screaming at him to just let go. He couldn't leave!

"Let me go! Let me go!" he pleaded, but, eventually, he was overtaken in strength and was yanked off. But Ponyboy didn't stop struggling. He squirmed in the policeman's hold, kicking his useless legs. His fingertips dug into the ground, trying to find someplace to hold onto. It felt like his nails were going to be torn off with how much pressure he was putting into the floor.

"Come on, kid!" the policeman whined, scooping him up, holding onto him so tightly that he couldn't move anymore. Ponyboy could only cry and try to wiggle out. The policeman held on as he was brought upstairs and outside. The sunlight made everything go white and he screamed out in pain at the familiar feeling of his eyes being burned came back. Instantly, a hand covered his eyes, and he sighed at the instant relief.

He was carried inside an ambulance and put diligently down. As soon as he was let go, he began struggling again with full force, but, again, was pinned down.

"Oh my god!" someone exclaimed, gasping.

"Put him under. We don't want him to hurt himself anymore. He also struggled to get away. We don't want him trying to escape while the ambulance is in motion."

"R-Right," the woman answered with a shaking voice. She reached around to grab something, and, in that instant, he felt the policeman loosen his hold.

Ponyboy pushed the hands away, groping wildly for something, anything. His hands touched something cold on the policeman. He instantly recognized it as a gun. Before the policeman could react, Ponyboy pulled it out of the holster. Instead of shooting wildly to get away like everyone thought he was going to do, Ponyboy pointed the barrel to the bottom of his chin.

He was going to be punished if he leaves. Vincent was going to get so mad at him. But he couldn't handle the torture anymore. He couldn't continue this hell. He just wanted everything to stop. It hurt too much.

Tears rimmed his eyes, hands shaking to the point where he was wondering if he would be able to pull this off, but, before he could make a decision, the gun was slapped out of his hands, leaving just a crying mess behind.

"I… I just want to go… Please, just let me go," Ponyboy whimpered as he felt a sharp ping of pain. His body soon got too weak to do anything. He couldn't even stammer anymore. He grew more and more exhausted with each passing second.

Before he fell into unconsciousness, he heard another woman say, "You're going to be okay."


	9. The Exhibition of Ponyboy Curtis

**IMPORTANT UPDATE:**

 **Hello, so, lately, I've been really stressed and busy. I'm back in school and my courses are unbelievably hard. There is so much homework that I'm hardly even sleeping and I'm finding it hard to find time to write. I'll try my best to continue with weekly updates, but it might take an extra week for me to update. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this story.**

 **o-o-o**

On a run-down street in Tulsa, Oklahoma sits a rickety, beat-up house, illuminated by dim streetlights. On a normal occasion, the house would be the loudest on the block with booming, chirping voices and the television would be turned up to max volume. But, ever since the youngest resident of the house went missing, it was abnormally silent. Hushed as if everyone was holding their breaths. Today was no different. In fact, if it was possible, it was even quieter and tenser.

It's been several weeks since they were all (excluding Ponyboy) in the house. No one spoke a word as they just watched Darry clean up the last bits of rubble, dumping shattered glass shards in the trashcan. They weren't sure what they were supposed to do now besides keep an eye out for Pony. They've done everything they could. They've looked through every nook and cranny in Tulsa and talked to as many people they could. The only clue that they were able to get in those attempts was an address that's been confiscated. It's been days since the police plucked the address where Ponyboy might be residing out of their hands. They haven't heard anything since. They were starting to lose hope on it all, thinking that the address was a fluke.

The sudden, loud shrill of the phone ringing made all of them tense up, heads snapping towards the device. Steve, being the closest, picked up the handset, holding it to his ear.

"Hello?" he greeted, voice sounding loud in the quiet atmosphere.

"Hello, I am calling from St. John's Hospital. Ponyboy Curtis was recently transferred here after undergoing immediate surgery at another facility. We would like—" the receptionist began, but before she could continue, Steve hung up, a smile forming on his lips. He didn't need to hear the rest to know what she was about to say. For once, he was excited to be able to see Ponyboy again. Although, he would never admit this to anyone.

He turned to the rest of the room. Everyone was looking at him with curiosity clearly written on their faces. "Ponyboy… He's been found!" he announced, almost not believing in his own words.

"Really?" Soda asked, eyes lighting up. His eyes glistened with hope and happiness, looking his own age again. It made Steve happy when he saw his best friend's expression. He almost forgot what it looked like. "Please tell me this isn't a joke. I don't think I could handle it if it was a joke."

"It's not. He's really there. Why would I joke about this to you?"

"What hospital?" Darry asked with shaking hands and eyes blown wide.

"He's at St. John's Hospital right now. We were given the green light on visiting him."

Smiles were on everyone's faces as they all shot up from their sitting positions. "Then what are we waiting for! Let's go!" Darry urged, grabbing his keys and rushing out the door with vigor.

They all hopped in Darry's truck, although some of them climbed into the bed, having to duck down so that police wouldn't delay them from getting to the hospital faster. When they were on the road, it felt like they were driving a hundred miles per hour, but, in the same time, it felt like everything was at a stand-still like they were trying to push through dense sludge. They were all impatient, practically jumping in their seats, tapping their fingers like excited children. In their heads, they were all chanting, _'Go, go, go, go, go!'_

When they arrived at the hospital, Darry parked sloppily, totally missing the parking spot lines. He ended up somehow parking in three spots, pissing off another driver who was going to park in one of the spots. They honked their horns and cursed at them, but the gang had other things on their minds. They hastily exited the car, sprinting to the hospital building. They rushed in, scarring the receptionist, whose eyes widened as Darry slammed his palms onto her desk.

"Where's Ponyboy Curtis's room?" he demanded, panting. It's been a while since he ran like that. The last time was when he was in high school.

"Ponyboy was recently brought here. The doctor needs to talk to you before you see him. Let me call for the doctor and he will lead you to his room," the receptionist replied after regaining composure. She dialed a number on the phone. A few minutes later, a balding man with large, square-wired glasses waltzed up to them. He had bags under his eyes and looked reluctant to speak to the group.

"Hello, I'm glad that you came," the doctor greeted, sticking out a hand. "Are you all family?"

"Yes," Soda instantly replied before Darry could tell the doctor that only he and Soda were family. The doctor quirked his eyebrow with unbelief.

" _All_ of you?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" Darry asked, going along with it.

The doctor shook his head. "Right… This way." They started walking down the hospital corridors, tension high. They stopped in front of a room, but, instead of entering, the doctor turned back to them. "Ponyboy… had a lot happen to him. When he was picked up, he was suffering from a fractured wrist, which was an easy fix. He also had six broken ribs. One of his lungs had a large puncture wound from his ribs. It was infected and it had to be surgically removed. Ponyboy now only has one functioning lung. A human only needs one lung to survive, but he wouldn't be able to perform strenuous activities like he would with two lungs. We can do a lung transplant, but that option will be very costly. Right now, he's being assisted in breathing with a tube."

Darry ran a hand through his hair. He sighed. He was so excited to be able to see his youngest brother that he completely forgot the fact that he was in a hospital for a reason. Even though he shouldn't be thinking it, half of his was worrying about how much this all was going to cost him.

"He also has a shattered ankle," the doctor continued. "This is the worst of them… er… of the broken bones, at least. His ankle was hit by a blunt object… To be more specific… a sledgehammer. That's what we're getting from it with all of the investigations going on in the house, anyways. It was healing improperly, so it had to be rebroken. Was Ponyboy a physically active person by any chance?"

"He was on the track team," Soda answered, throat tight. He didn't want to hear any more.

"With that much damage to his ankle, although we were able to save it, and with the addition of his lung, it is not recommended that he continues this sport. He will be able to run, but…" The doctor trailed off and everyone nodded in understanding.

Ponyboy would be crushed when he finds out that he wouldn't be able to run anymore. Whenever they watched Ponyboy run, he always had his head in the clouds, face full of bliss as the wind brushed past him. They all knew that he was always stressed out with everything that he was dealing with—school, Darry's nagging, the death of his parents—and running always made him forget about his problems. Even though Darry's was more obvious, all three brothers grew up too fast in a way. In Soda and Ponyboy's case, it was almost unnoticeable. It took someone that was really close to them to notice the difference. But running always made Ponyboy seem like he reverted back to how he was before his parent's perished.

"He won't… be able to run again?" Johnny asked worriedly. He earned a small shake of the head from the doctor, who decided to turn his eyes to his clipboard.

Two-Bit gulped, hands clutching. "That sounds—"

"Horrible? That's not even the end of it," the doctor continued.

"There's more?" Steve mumbled.

"Ponyboy lost a lot of blood when he was found and had to be given some more. It was lucky that he was found at that time. If he wasn't found when he was, he might have died."

"Wh…W-What?" Soda's voice trembled. There was no way… There was no way that Ponyboy could have been found dead. Soda had always believed that nothing bad could happen to them anymore, not since they found out what happened to their parents. How bad would their luck have to be to have another death in their immediate family? Fate couldn't be that cruel to them. But, Soda had to remind himself that he lived in reality. No matter what they've all been through, they would never become immune to misfortune. It then occurred to Soda how fragile and vulnerable everyone actually was. Even now, when Pony's been found, he can still die.

"Ponyboy was found covered in deep cuts from a knife. Some of his cuts scarred over, but the constant damage afflicted on his body didn't allow him to fully replace the lost blood, so the amount lost just accumulated over time. He lost a lot of blood when a molar tooth was removed by whoever took him. We could tell because of how much more he bled when the wound reopened. We had to put in some stitches." The doctor paused for a bit. "On that note, while we are on this topic, when he gets released, I would advise you to visit a dentist to check for tooth decay or any other problems in that area. I would also ask to put him under. He most likely will be reminded of the kidnapper each time he goes to the dentist."

Dally almost rolled his eyes at those words. The doctor just stated the obvious. Of course, Ponyboy will be scared of dentists after having a tooth removed without his consent or the right tools. He groaned when he realized the doctor was still mumbling about dentists. "Come on, man. What else happened?" he asked, exasperated.

The doctor snapped his eyes to Dally with a startled grunt. He cleared his throat, quickly composing himself again. "Well, on one of his hands, his skin was peeled off. This was the most grotesque of his injuries. Only a few patches of skin were left. But you don't have to worry about it too much. His cells will form new skin there."

"Peeled? Like… a fruit?" Two-Bit asked, earning a nod.

"I'm surprised you even know what a fruit it," Steve instinctively teased.

Before Two-Bit could make a comeback, the doctor cleared his throat to catch their attention. "There are a few more that I have to discuss. I know that all of you are anxious in seeing Ponyboy," he commented, and the gang all nodded. "When he was found, his body was covered in bruises and cigarette burns. There were signs on his body of him being drilled. He was also very dehydrated and was suffering from malnutrition. We're tube feeding him right now. It will be difficult for him to recover and gain his weight back because his body isn't used to consuming a lot of food at a time or drinking much water. So, when he is ready to be discharged, it's vital that you take your time with this because of how his body is rejecting these substances."

"I will make sure of that," Darry answered with confidence, eyes hardening briefly.

"Also, he was suffering from hypothermia while there. If he stayed in that temperature much longer, even if he wasn't bleeding, he probably would have passed away. He was at risk of his heart or his respiratory system failing." The doctor looked away from the clipboard and stared at each of the gang members in the eyes with a stern expression. "Those were all the physical injuries that we were able to locate. We don't know much about his mental state because he's been knocked out this entire time, but it can't be good. If he wakes up, please do not touch him. Try not to talk to him or get too close. Never turn on the light. Try not to even talk to him at all. At least, for now. Even the slightest movement can trigger him. He should be waking up any minute now."

Before the doctor could touch the handle of the door to Ponyboy's room, it was opened by someone else who was already inside.

"Oh," the male person let out in surprise. The man was wearing a police uniform and looked too young to be an officer. He grimly smiled at everyone as he closed the door behind him. He stretched out his hand. "You must be Ponyboy's family. I was the policeman that found Ponyboy and was the one who carried him to the ambulance. I was just checking to see if he was awake yet."

"Thank you for finding him," Darry marveled, shaking his hand.

The policeman nodded. "I just had to check to on him. I've seen many sick things on the force. But, when I found him, it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. He was so messed up." He looked down, eyes closing tightly as he recalled the perturbing memories.

"Can I ask what happened when you found him?"

"Well… To start from the beginning… Some other officers and I were searching the house. We all split apart to search for Ponyboy. I opened the door to the basement and flashed my light down there. I saw Ponyboy, huddled up in a ball, bleeding profusely and covered in bruises. His wrists were zip-tied and he had a noose around his neck. It was like a leash… like he was a fucking _animal_."

"A-A-A noose?" Johnny asked, trying to make sure that he heard the policeman correctly.

"Yes, a fucking noose. Fortunately, he wasn't suspended off the ground or anything that would really choke him. But, when I was telling him that I was there to help him, he totally freaked out. Went ballistic."

"How so?" Darry asked, not wanting to hear the rest.

"He had such a scared expression on his face and he tried to crawl away when I tried to approach him. The noose tightened around his throat, but, even though he was strangling himself, he acted like that was the least of his problems. His face was changing colors, but he kept trying to crawl away, only making it get tighter and tighter around his throat. He was in so much pain, but he _didn't stop_! He screamed at me to leave him there and even when I got him free and tried to carry him, he dug his nails into the floor and tried to stay. He struggled so much, but I managed to grab him. When I brought him to the ambulance—" The policeman stopped, choking on his own words. He shook his head.

"What?" Soda asked. "What happened when you brought him to the ambulance?"

"I don't… I don't… I don't want to say."

"Tell us!" Everyone flinched when Soda screamed. Soda's expression was stern and was even scarier than Darry's when he was angry. It was so unlike how Soda usually was that it made everyone in the gang uncomfortable. They've never seen him snap like that before.

"Sir, please, keep your voice down, especially near Ponyboy's room."

As if someone flipped off a switch, Soda's face softened and he looked at everyone apologetically. "Sorry…" He turned back to the policeman. "Please… Just, please, tell us."

The policeman chewed at his bottom lip. "Ponyboy… he… he tried to take his life."

Those words made everyone's blood run cold. No way was that true. That couldn't be true.

"He grabbed my gun and almost shot himself. I slapped the gun out the way before he could do anything, but, that's why he's put out. He's a danger to himself as well as other people."

"We also secured straps so that he wouldn't try anything like that while here," the doctor added.

'While here,' everyone in the gang noted. Meaning, he might try to kill himself in the future.

"He tried to take his life?" Johnny squeaked, voice shaking.

Before anyone could answer, there was a terrified scream that came from inside the room, snapping everyone's attention to the door. The doctor pushed past everyone into the room and the gang peeked in. But they weren't ready to see young greaser. Nothing would have prepared them for what they were about to see.

Ponyboy was awake. He was struggling against his restraints with a panicked expression. Tubes were shoved down his throat, muffling his screams considerably.

But that's not what shocked the gang.

It was his ghastly appearance. His skin was pale and dull. His skin was draped over his figure to the very bump on his bones, he was so skinny. He was practically a moving skeleton. Even the hospital gown couldn't hide how much skinnier he was. He didn't even look like Ponyboy anymore, that's how drastic the change in appearance was. Bandages were wrapped around his body, some parts of him were covered in a cast, making him seem like a mummy. If they weren't in that situation, Two-Bit would have probably made a joke about it and teased Ponyboy about it… but, even he was flabbergasted.

"Please, calm down," the doctor urged. "You're safe. You're in the hospital."

But Ponyboy kept struggling, kicking everywhere. The heart monitor that he was attached to was beeping like crazy. He cried out in pain and fear and it was such a pitiful sound that it hurt everyone. It made everyone feel like breaking down in tears, even the more aloof people like Dally.

"Pony…" Johnny whispered so quietly that not even the others in the gang heard him. Somehow, Pony did though. He snapped his attention to the gang and they finally saw the burn marks around his eyes. Ponyboy's eyes stared at them… well… past them. It was quite disturbing to see him look at them but not really look at them.

Everyone held their breaths, expecting for Ponyboy to calm down and smile at them. But he didn't. In a way, he didn't react at all. For a moment, he calmed down, face becoming blank, but it passed quickly.

Ponyboy grimaced, shook and head and continued struggling like before. He didn't even react to the gang being there like he didn't know they were there.

The gang members were pushed aside as nurses rushed in the room. "You have to wait outside now," one of them informed them, shooing them away and closing the door behind them. The gang only stared at the closed door with shocked expressions, unable to take in everything they saw and were told.

What did they just see? Why didn't Ponyboy recognize them?

It was several minutes until the nurses and the doctor left the room, everything becoming quiet again. They must have put Ponyboy out again.

Darry was the first to speak up, voice wavering. He didn't know where to start, but he had to say something. Anything. "Why…" he swallowed. "Why didn't he acknowledge us?"

Then a realization hit him… a realization that he didn't want to believe was true.

"Why did you say that we had to keep the lights off?" Darry asked, staring intensely at the doctor, eyes rimmed with tears.

"I forgot to inform you of something vital about his condition…" the doctor started. " _Ponyboy is blind, and he might never be able to see again._ "


	10. Talk to Him and he May Feel Better

There was a ringing in everybody's ears when they heard those words. Blind? They couldn't comprehend what they heard at all. How could Ponyboy be blind? The last time they saw him he had practically perfect vision. There was no way that he could have just became blind. He wasn't supposed to become blind, at least, not until he grew old. What did that kidnapper do to him exactly? A part of them was stupefied on how Ponyboy continued to grapple onto life even through all of that torture.

That's when they all realized something. Ponyboy won't be able to see them again. He won't be able to read or watch movies or the view sunset. He won't be able to run or draw or anything of the sort.

"Hope isn't lost for his eyes though," the doctor continued, causing their attention to snap back to the man with shock clear in their eyes.

"What do you mean?" Darry asked, mouth dry. He licked his chapped lips, swallowing his saliva.

"Ponyboy still responds to light. Chances are, he could still see blurry outlines of people, so he's not completely blind. His retinas were burned and the nutrients in his eyes were dried up. This is usually from a bright light being shined in someone's eyes. It's very similar to someone looking straight at a solar eclipse. Anyways, there is a chance that Ponyboy's sight will be recovered, but I am sorry to say, his vision will be severely damaged."

"And how does he get his vision back?"

"A few options. One, we can perform retinal surgery. This is the best option for improving his vision, but..." The doctor trailed off causing Steve and Dally to both roll their eyes. The rest of the gang were feeling irritable as well. They understood why the doctor trailed off. They couldn't afford the surgery.

"What else is there?" Steve asked, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on one leg.

"Well, he can go through stem cell therapy or reprogramming therapy."

"Anything else?" Soda asked.

"He can insert nutrients in the eye from eyedrops or supplements," the doctor concluded. "With any of these options, there is a risk of it not working. In fact, there is a high chance of him not regaining his eyesight at all."

Everyone fell silent. Both Darry and Soda felt horrible. They couldn't do anything to help Ponyboy because of their financial problem. They both clenched their fists. It wasn't fair. They both worked so hard, Darry even had a second job, but they still couldn't help. They didn't even want to think about how much they owed the hospital without doing anything.

The doctor tucked his clipboard under one of his armpits. He stared at each of them in their eyes in turn. "Anyways, you probably want to be with Ponyboy now. He will be knocked out for a couple more hours or so. We gave him a low dosage of anesthetics. I'll leave you all, but make sure that you follow the rules I gave you. If there are any problems, please call for me, a doctor, or a nurse."

"Thank you," Darry uttered, watching as the doctor left the group. They were about to enter Ponyboy's room when they were stopped.

"Excuse me," the policeman then spoke up. All of them forgot that he was there. Soda was a bit annoyed. He just wanted to sit by his brother's side, but he kept getting stopped. "If it's alright, can I ask Ponyboy a few questions about his experience?"

"Isn't it too soon?" Soda asked. Ponyboy was just found, for Christ's sake.

"It's very necessary to get information as soon as possible. It could save potential future victims and help us get a better understanding of everything that happened to help us catch him."

"He wasn't caught?" Johnny fretted, eyes wide.

The policeman shook his head. "I'm afraid not. He wasn't there when we found Ponyboy, and, from what we understand, he never came back. We're still trying to find him, but it's like he disappeared altogether. Whoever he is, he took the time to make sure there was no evidence of him every single time he did something in the house. I just need as much information on him. He probably will hurt someone else… he might even go after Ponyboy again to finish him off."

Again, everyone felt their blood go cold. Ponyboy wasn't safe. None of them were safe. "You mean…" Two-Bit started, unable to finish his sentence for once.

"Ponyboy won't be safe until the perpetrator gets put behind bars."

Darry bit his lips, thinking hard on the situation. The kidnapper had to be caught, even if Ponyboy was still mentally and physically recovering from what had happened. If it would help keep him safe, he had to accept. "Okay," he asserted.

"Okay?"

"You can talk to Ponyboy."

"Darry…" Soda objected, putting a hand on Darry's bicep in worry.

"I know. I don't like it either, but we have to catch whoever took Pony so that we could protect him. We have to do it. For Pony."

"You'll be making the right decision," the policeman added.

Darry turned back to him with a stoic expression. "If Ponyboy starts freaking out, you need to leave, you dig? Don't you dare tell Ponyboy that the kidnapper wasn't caught."

"Do you really think that he wouldn't be able to figure out that the kidnapper is still out there?" Steve brought up. "Hate to say it, but the kid's clever."

"I can't hide the fact that the perpetrator is still roaming the streets," the policeman pointed out, "but I will try my best."

"You just gotta rip the bandage off, man. Pony will get over it," Dally commented. "Better now than later."

"If it will help, we will dispatch a policeman to watch over Ponyboy and the rest of you for protection."

With a long sigh, Darry answered, "Thank you… But can you wait to do this all until tomorrow? We just want to be with him for at least one day."

"Of course. I'll leave you all to visit him. I'll see you all tomorrow." The policeman nodded at them before marching away, finally giving the gang a chance to visit Ponyboy. They opened the door, making sure that nobody was watching them, before entering the room. Sure enough, like what the doctor said, Ponyboy was passed out. Soda, again, started to tear up when he observed the pitiful state his brother was in. Darry patted his brother back, looking torn himself.

"I'm so glad that he's been found," Soda whimpered.

"I know, buddy," Darry said. "We all are."

They didn't know what they were supposed to do until Ponyboy woke up so they all grabbed a chair and waited. Time went by slowly. Nobody spoke, not wanting to cut through the thick atmosphere. Eventually, after a few hours of waiting, everyone but Soda and Darry left the room to get their rest.

"Darry… what are we going to do?" Soda asked when the door closed again.

A sigh left his brother's lips. "We try the best we can and be there for him. That's the only thing we can do at this point."

A whimper caught their attention, causing them to snap their heads to their brother who was finally waking up. Ponyboy's eyes slowly opened, staring blankly at the ceiling. The sparkling green-gray eyes were dull and blank.

Ponyboy didn't react to them, not like they were expecting him to. That is until Soda spoke from reflex. "Pony…" he whispered, earning a warning look from Darry. The look was quick, and Soda almost didn't notice it. Darry snapped his head back to Ponyboy to see how he would react Soda being there. Instead of freaking out like how he was a few hours ago, Ponyboy just sighed deeply, closing his eyes again. He shook his head slightly. Soda took this as a sign to continue talking, because, maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe Ponyboy was getting over his shock. "Pony, it's me, Soda… You're finally back to us."

Ponyboy opened his mouth and Soda almost beamed, but, instead, he frowned at the words that came out. "Leave me alone…" he quavered, voice hoarse from screaming.

"Pony—"

"Shut up, just shut up! You're not real!" Ponyboy tugged at his restraints, clenching his teeth. He winced at the shot of pain that ran through his body. Even though he should have stopped struggling, the restraints only made him more panicked causing him to pull even more.

"Pony, calm down, please! It's me! It's really me. You're safe. You're not going to be hurt anymore." Soda, reached forward, forgetting all of the rules that the doctor told them about. He just wanted to comfort his brother. All he wanted to do was wrap Ponyboy in his arm and pet his hair. He wanted his arms to feel like a warm blanket that would protect him from danger. His hands touched Ponyboy's arm, and that's when he realized that his hugs will not help him feel safe anymore.

As soon as there was some sort of contact, Ponyboy violently jerked away as far away as he could. The restraints made his body turn to an uncomfortable and awkward position that tugged on his healing bones. He cried out in pain, causing Soda to quickly withdraw his hand, looking at his palms in shame.

"Don't touch me anymore. Please, just leave me alone today."

Darry and Soda looked at each other. Did he not realize the Soda was actually there? Did he still believe he was still kidnapped?

"Shut up, you're wrong," Ponyboy continued, returning back to his original position as if he forgot why he was struggling in the first place. He continued to talk like he was having a conversation with another person. But no one was speaking. Only Soda and Darry were in the room. So, who was Ponyboy talking to?

"Maybe we should tell the doctor that he's awake," Darry suggested. Soda looked at Darry reluctantly, not wanting to leave his brother's side again, but nodded.

Soda stood up but stopped in his tracks when Ponyboy spoke again. "Don't leave me… You're the only person that makes them shut up." So he _was_ aware of them being there…

"Make who shut up?" Soda asked.

" _Them_ ," he replied as if expecting Soda and Darry to know who he was talking about. "They won't shut up. Make them shut up, please." His voice was shaking and was so desperate that it tugged at their hearts. They wanted to help, but they didn't know what was going on or what Ponyboy was talking about.

"Soda, stay here," Darry finally declared after Ponyboy went back to talking to the unknown entity. Soda nodded, sitting back down.

Darry exited the room, scanning the crowd of people on the floor for the doctor. After a few minutes of looking around, he finally found him talking to a coworker.

"Doctor," Darry called out as he approached the man. The coworker looked at Darry before walking away, sensing the urgency in his aura.

"Is Ponyboy awake?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah…"

"It's a lot to take in, huh?"

Darry huffed, running his hands in his hair. "You have no idea."

"What can I do for you? Is something wrong with Ponyboy?"

Where would Darry even start? He waited a few seconds, formulating an explanation to what he just saw. "He woke up and started talking, but… it doesn't seem like Ponyboy knows that we're there."

The doctor grimaced, looking at Darry with judging eyes. "You talked to him when I told you not to?"

"We did out of reflex."

Tilting his head with a sigh, the doctor said, "Well, I guess it couldn't be helped. What else happened?"

"Ponyboy reacted to Soda when he touched his arm and answered a question. But he kept talking to someone else and thought we were someone else."

The doctor hummed, resting his chin on a fist. "It sounds like he's hallucinating. You wouldn't have family members with schizophrenia, would you?"

Darry shook his head. "Not anyone that I could think of."

"It is possible, then, that he developed a type of PTSD. I'm not that surprised. I would be more surprised if he didn't develop PTSD. In extreme cases of PTSD, hallucinations can occur. He might also have depressive psychosis. This also causes hallucinations and sounds more accurate to what you described. It's not necessarily from genetics like schizophrenia. There are a lot of possible reasons he could be hallucinating…" The doctor paused to think about any other disorder that could match the description. In the end, he just shook his head. "He probably doesn't remember him being rescued or taken to the hospital. If he does, he's probably in denial and thinks that it's a dream. Ponyboy most likely lost all hope in being rescued, so his brain probably didn't process being saved."

"But he's safe…"

"If he put up a fight to stay in the basement of that house, his brain probably helped him forget in an attempt to make him feel less stress. It's a defense mechanism all brains have. If something is causing immense stress or pain, your brain can forget the memory. Well, it's more like repress."

"But then why doesn't he forget what happened to him?"

"That's the million-dollar question. If I had to guess, the kidnapper manipulated Ponyboy into believing that he was safest with him and that everything he did to him was an act of care. However, I cannot be sure of why."

"How do we get Pony to realize that he's safe?"

The doctor closed his eyes to think. He swayed his head from side to side. "Well… You're going to need to talk to him, despite what I warned earlier. We have to make him realize that you're there and understand that he's not in the basement anymore. If he's already responding to you, it probably won't take that long, but we can't say for sure."

"Thank you, Doctor," Darry said before walking back to the room. Soda snapped his attention to him when he opened the door, looking pitiful. Ponyboy was mumbling incoherent words on the bed.

"What did the doctor say?" Soda asked.

"We have to make sure that Ponyboy realizes he's not in the basement anymore. He still thinks he's back in that house, so let's make him understand that he's safe."

"How do we do that?"

"By talking to him."

 **o-o-o**

Dally was on his way to meet up with Johnny to head to the hospital. Soda and Darry had told everybody that they all needed to start talking to Ponyboy to help him realize that he wasn't in danger anymore. Even though Dally cared about the kid, a secret to most people, he wasn't really close to him. He didn't have the same types of memories as the rest of them did, but that didn't mean he couldn't give it a shot. He hated seeing everyone so stressed and upset. He just wanted Ponyboy to get back on his feet again.

"Dally!" someone called out, stopping him from breaking in a car. He turned around with an irritated expression on his face.

"Vincent," he greeted, going back to picking the lock of the car.

"Where are you headed off to?"

"Hospital. Ponyboy was found."

"Oh?" Vincent's voice grew noticeably deeper, almost making it sound eerie. There was an unnecessarily long pause before the chipper voice returned. Dally passed it off as nothing. "That's great! What hospital is he in?"

"St. Johns."

"I might have to pay him a visit."

Dally quirked an eyebrow, turning his head back to Vincent. "I didn't know you knew the kid."

"I know him quite a lot, actually. He knows me very well too."

"I wouldn't have guessed, man."

"Well, I should probably leave you to get to him. See ya, man!"

Dally waved his hand as he finally unlocked the car. For a brief moment, he felt someone glare at him but when he looked around, no one was there. With a shrug, he went to work on hardwiring the car.

 **o-o-o**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait! Even though my classes had just started not that long ago, I already feel like I hit the wall. I don't really like this chapter. I'm sorry if it's really boring, but, don't worry. I'm bringing it back to the thriller/horror portion.**


	11. Whispers of the Past

**Thank you all who reviewed. You guys made me feel really happy and relieved. I teared up a bit. ^^**

 **Steve's memory in this was inspired by a picture I found on Tumblr a while back. I can't take full credit on that small part.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **o-o-o**

"So, he was found in the basement?" a crime scene investigator reiterated, ducking down to pass by the bright, fluorescent yellow police tape that encircled the house. He was immediately caught off-guard with the strong odor of bleach, but it wasn't an abnormal scent to him. He crinkled his nose in disgust, opting to breathe with his mouth instead.

"Yes," a policeman clarified with a gruff voice.

The two of them descended the rickety staircase to the basement that was filled with many numbered place cards, tape, and police officers. The CSI took a once-over of the basement with calculating eyes before they locked onto the two rooms in the back. He pointed at them. "What are those rooms?"

"Ah! Follow me, I'll show you. It's actually really interesting." The policeman gestured with his hands, leading the CSI to the two rooms. He stopped in front of the first room, holding the doorknob tightly with his gnarly hands. "This room looks like a room where a singer would record music. I have no idea what's it for." He opened the door, and, sure enough, it did look like it was used for recording music. Foam panels covered the walls, door, and floor. In a way, it looked like it belonged to a mental hospital to keep patients from hurting themselves. The CSI took note of the large portion of foam that was sawed off and missing. He wondered exactly what happened to cause that. He could think of a few reasons for it to be like that; none of them were reassuring.

"It's dark in here," the CSI murmured before reaching into the bag that he was carrying with all of his necessities for investigating crime scenes. He shuffled through the mess inside before he pulled out a black light. Turning it on, the CSI shone it inside the room. He moved slowly, squinting his eyes to help him catch the smallest anomaly.

He frowned when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Man, was this criminal good. He didn't even leave any evidence.

The CSI started to retract his arm, about to give up and move to the next room, when he saw the slightest bit of brightly lit spotting. A small smirk reached his lips as he bent down to rummage through his bag again. He slipped on rubber gloved with an overly-dramatic snap and pulled out a pair of scissors. He then bent over to the spot, snipping it and pulling it in the light to observe it.

"What is it?" the policeman asked, looking over the CSI's shoulder.

The stain on the foam was dark and crispy. It was unmistakable. "Blood."

The policeman wasn't surprised. "Whose blood is it?"

"Don't know." The CSI dropped the foam in a little evidence bag. "That's what we will be testing for. It's most likely the victim's, but it could also be the offender or someone else that fell prey to them. Whoever it belongs to, it will nevertheless be useful in helping us put the criminal behind bars..."

The CSI checked the room again just in case he missed anything before he turned to the policeman again. "What about the other room?" he asked.

"Well," the policeman drawled out, scratching at his sideburn. "I don't really know what it is. It just looks like a storage room. But it's weird…"

"How so?"

"Look for yourself." The door opened and the CSI was shocked to see that it was perfectly clean and tidy. Not one particle of dust was present. He now understood why the policeman said that it was weird. Who keeps a storage closet this clean?

"My guess: this is where they kept the cleaning supplies to remove all the blood and bile as well as hold weapons," the policeman hypothesized.

It would seem like that at first glance, but this could have been a front, or it could have been used for multiple reasons. Again, the CSI crouched down to try to look at the closet at all angles. His eyes shifted around. It looked normal, way too normal. Something was definitely off about it. What would make them clean the room like this? That's when he saw it. The tiled floors were uneven. One tile, in particular, was slightly lifted and detached from the others like it was recently lifted up from the floor.

Something was buried under the house.

The CSI shot up, turning to the group of policemen behind him. "We need to dig here!"

A few people rushed over, grabbing some of the shovels that were placed next to other garden equipment. They started to break the tile apart in the small closet, digging the rusty shovels into the soft soil. Dust flew everywhere, making the once clean closet turn into a mess. The air was so bad that they had to all cover their faces with their shirts to filter the air. They kept digging until they practically dug a grave, the hole being six feet deep down.

That's when one of the policemen let out a startled yell as he dug his shovel into the loose soil, lifting up a human skull.

The CSI stared at the skull in shock. He was expecting a fleshy body or a buried murder weapon at most, but this was a skull. It was practically completely decomposed. How long has the criminal been in the house? It couldn't have been that long. The briefing he received before he arrived at the crime scene told him that the original owner of the house was last seen a few months ago. An exposed body would take around a decade to decompose. Was the criminal carrying the body around this entire time? How special was this person to them? Would they try to get steal it back?

More piles of dirt flew out of the hole. It went on like this for a few more minutes before the policemen stopped digging suddenly, a look of horror on their faces. The CSI looked down to see what they were staring at.

In the hole, there was a decomposed female skeleton.

 **o-o-o**

Two-Bit bounded into the room. "Hey, Rapunzel," he greeted with a huge grin on his face. It faltered a bit a second later as he sat down. "Darry wants us to talk to you about all of the good times we had together."

Ponyboy didn't respond and Two-Bit sighed.

"It was hard to pick just one. But, remember the pranks that we pulled? There was this one we did to Darry, remember?"

…

" _Come on, he's fast asleep," Two-Bit laughed, dragging Ponyboy by the wrist towards Darry's bedroom. Darry had recently crashed after overdoing himself at work._

" _I don't know about this," Ponyboy mumbled, looking reluctantly at Two-Bit._

" _It's going to be so funny!"_

" _Not after, it won't. Darry's going to be on our backs."_

 _Two-Bit didn't listen and pushed Ponyboy into the bedroom, the sound of Darry's snores filtering through their ears. Darry was lying on his back, hugging a pillow, his blanket thrown off by his legs. Two-Bit put a hand over his mouth, trying to hold in a laugh. He then turned to Ponyboy and put a finger to his lips to remind him to stay quiet. He then looked around the room before picking up a shoe._

" _Two-Bit…" Ponyboy hissed, making sure the keep his voice low. Darry groaned, causing both of them to freeze. Darry let go of the pillow, letting it roll off the bed and onto the floor. The two of them relaxed. Two-Bit instantly went back to his previous task._

 _Carefully and diligently, he placed the shoe on Darry's forehead. He let go and hovered his hand around the shoe for a few moments before retracting them completely. Two-Bit chuckled lightly and Ponyboy couldn't help but laugh. He wanted to give it a shot. It looked like a lot of fun._

" _Your turn," Two-Bit whispered._

 _Ponyboy rolled his eyes with a huge grin. He looked around the room. If he was going to do this, he was going to aim high._

 _That's when he saw it. A smirk curled Ponyboy's lips up. He picked up a pen that was on the dresser, bending over to hook Darry's discarded, dirty underwear from his laundry basket. Two-Bit laughed loudly before stifling it when another groan came out of Darry. Ponyboy held his breath as he slid the underwear onto Darry's face, poking at it until it sat like a mustache right under his nose._

 _The two went off like that, stacking whatever they could on Darry. Amazingly, Darry did not shift even the slightest bit. That's when Two-Bit decided to put a lamp on his chest. He carefully placed it on, but as soon as he withdrew his hands, it fell, crashing onto Darry's face._

 _Darry's eyes shot open and it took less than a second for him to process everything. He sat up, letting everything slide off of him. The underwear peeled off of his face before he turned to glare at the two teenagers who looked like they were deer caught in headlights._

" _Crap. Run! Run!" Two-Bit screamed, pushing Ponyboy out of the room with a laugh._

" _Get back here!" Darry screamed from behind them, and they burst out laughing as they fled the house._

…

Two-Bit stared at Ponyboy afterward, looking around the room for something. His eyes fell upon the vase of fresh flowers. Taking one out, he teasingly placed it on Ponyboy's forehead before leaving the room. "I'll be back soon, so don't miss me too much okay?" He winked, before shutting the door behind him. The smile fell from his lips.

 **o-o-o**

Steve pulled up a chair, leaning his chest on the backrest, resting his elbows on it as well. Ponyboy and him never got along. He didn't have many nice memories with the kid. Steve had to really rack his brain for something. He didn't even consider any of the better ones nice, but Ponyboy might like them. It was better than nothing.

"Listen, kid," he began, "I don't really have many good moments with you, and I don't really like you too much, but just remember that I was the one who taught you the basics of driving."

…

 _Steve was waiting in the parking lot, tapping his foot impatiently. Cars were already leaving the school and Steve was about to go as well when he saw the light auburn-haired boy in the cluster of students. The two of them held eye contact and Steve could already feel the glare of annoyance being shot at him._

" _What are you doing here?" Ponyboy asked when he walked up to him._

" _Darry and Soda asked me to pick you up," Steve answered. "I don't want to see you either."_

" _But I could have walked or taken the bus."_

" _Your brothers don't trust you, I guess. I totally agree with you. You should return home alone and grow a few."_

 _Ponyboy growled at him, crossing his arms. "Let's just go…" Ponyboy reached up to open the passenger's door when Steve cleared his throat._

" _What?" Ponyboy snapped._

 _Steve tapped his knuckles on the driver's side. "Hop in here."_

 _Ponyboy stared at the driver's side dumbfoundedly. He looked at Steve questionably. "What?"_

" _Get in. You're driving." Steve hopped into the passenger's seat, strapping in. He usually doesn't put on a seatbelt, but Ponyboy was going to drive. He valued his life._

 _Ponyboy got in but didn't move to do anything. He sat stiffly in the driver's side of the seat. "I don't have a permit. I'm too young to even get behind the wheel."_

" _It's fine. You're with me. As long as you aren't pulled over, we're fine."_

" _Darry's going to kill me," Ponyboy mumbled before putting on a seatbelt as well. "He doesn't want me to drive."_

" _Exactly why I'm teaching you how to. Darry and Soda are too protective over you to drive." Steve grabbed onto the handle above his head. "Look down to your pedals. The leftmost is the clutch, the middle is the brake, and the rightmost is the accelerator. To start the car, press down the clutch and put the car into neutral. Then turn the car on."_

 _Ponyboy nodded throughout the explanation, most of it passing over his brain. But could you blame him? It was a lot of information being thrown at him at one time._

 _He bit his bottom lip when Steve told him to start. The parking lot was completely empty at that point, a perfect time to practice driving. He started the car, following Steve's instructions. He started to drive but failed miserably. The car jerked every few seconds, stopping suddenly, making both of them feel sick to the stomach. After a while though, Ponyboy got the hang of it, although he still was terrible._

 _Eventually, Steve told him to stop. "I've had enough. I am not letting you drive on the freeway. Switch places."_

 _Ponyboy rolled his eyes but agreed. He wasn't ready and both of them would die if he went on the freeway. Ponyboy switched places with Steve, feeling the exhaustion caused by stress catch up to him. "Hey, Steve?" he said after they exited the school, the car driving smoothly._

" _Hmm?"_

" _Thank you…"_

" _Yeah. No problem, kid. Don't tell anyone about this."_

…

As Steve finished his story, Ponyboy didn't react to him being there. He just continued to stare at the ceiling blankly. Steve didn't think much of it and shrugged. He did his part. It was going to take time for Ponyboy to recover. But, man, did he hope it was soon. He wouldn't be surprised if Ponyboy got back to normal tomorrow. The kid always had the habit of being everywhere he goes somehow, usually by clinging to Soda's side.

It was the most annoying factor about him, but he was hoping for Ponyboy to become a thorn in his side again.

 **o-o-o**

Dally entered the room next, leaning against the wall next to the door and propping one of his legs up coolly. It was weird to be alone in the same room as Ponyboy. Someone else was almost always there with them. Johnny was usually there with them, making finding a memory with just the two of them difficult.

"Hey, kid," he greeted awkwardly. He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat. "Listen, I don't remember many mushy moments between us. Nothing your brothers would approve of. But, it's a good thing that none of them are here to hear this."

…

 _Ponyboy pushed open the door to the gas station, the bell chiming. The cashier glanced in his direction before turning back to what he was originally doing. Ponyboy waltzed over to him, leaning on the counter until the cashier looked back up with a raised eyebrow._

" _Can I help you?" he asked._

" _Yeah, actually, you see my brother and I are passing by, and we're a little bit lost. We're doing some sightseeing along the way, and—"_

" _Sightseeing in Tulsa?" The cashier almost snorted._

" _There's an exhibit we both want to see. You might have heard of it…"_

 _As Ponyboy was talking, Dally entered the gas station store, walking into one of the aisles. He made a beeline towards the bottles of alcohol. Dally scanned the shelf for a good brand, picking one up after a short search. He glanced at Ponyboy and the cashier who were preoccupied with a map. Perfect._

 _With a smirk, he slid the bottle under his jacket, holding it with an elbow. He picked another bottle up, tucking it to the other side. When he went to pick up another, one of the bottles that were under his jacket slipped out, falling to the floor. Dally shot his hands down to catch it. Luckily, he managed to do so, but the bottom of the bottle clanged against the edge of one of the shelves, making the head of the cashier snap up at him. Ponyboy glanced back as well with a panicked expression._

" _Hey, what's going on back there?" the cashier called out. "You better not be trying anything funny!"_

" _I almost dropped something," Dally answered. "I caught it. Don't get your panties in a twist. It's not like I broke it, man."_

" _Excuse me?" The cashier's face was red, veins popping. "What's with your attitude, kid?" The cashier stepped out from behind the counter and was about to storm over to Dally when Ponyboy knocked down a pile of knick-knacks off of the counter. They scattered across the floor with a loud crash, going everywhere._

" _Oh, for fuck's sake!" the cashier cursed, spinning to Ponyboy._

" _Sorry! I wasn't paying attention to where my arm was!" Ponyboy apologized, crouching down to pick everything up. While he was crouching down, he pretended to slip on one of the items. Ponyboy fell forward with his arms stretched out, hands groping for something to catch his fall. His hands wrapped around a cloth, but it didn't catch his fall. He fell flat on his face, but that was the least of his problems. Above him, he heard a yell of shock and he looked up to see that the cashier's pants were at his ankles. He blushed in embarrassment, letting go of the fabric._

" _Dammit, kid!" The cashier went to pull up his pants. As he was doing that, Ponyboy watched Dally slip out of the store, the bell chiming again._

" _Sorry! I'm really clumsy!" Ponyboy scrambled to his feet, stepping backward. "But it was your fault if you think about it!"_

" _Excuse me?" The man glared at him with hard eyes making Ponyboy gulp._

" _You should have worn tighter pants or a belt!" With that, he slipped out the store himself and jogged around the side of it to where Dally was._

" _You should have seen his reaction when you pulled down his pants!" Dally cackled when Ponyboy joined him._

 _Ponyboy huffed. "I hope that was worth it. I didn't really want that."_

" _It was, man. Look!" Dally opened up his jacket and Ponyboy could see that he was holding eight bottles of liquor. Somehow._

" _I don't think that alcohol makes up for what I just witnessed."_

 _Dally rolled his eyes, slightly struggling to reach into his back pocket to pull out a book. It was a copy of the novel, Fahrenheit 451, a book Ponyboy always wanted to read but never gotten around to it. "I snagged this for you too. Don't think I don't do anything for you."_

 _Ponyboy grabbed it and flipped through it, practically beaming. "Thanks…"_

…

He wasn't expecting Ponyboy to react to his "heart whelming" story. He wouldn't either.

But it had him thinking. Dally slipped out of the room, loping to the hospital gift shop. He looked at all of the books for the familiar title, but, couldn't find it. He sighed in disappointment before he picked up another book, _Gone with the Wind_ , and hoped that Ponyboy would like it when he recovers.

 **o-o-o**

Darry sighed, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair. He was trying to think about some sort of memory to tell Ponyboy. Now that he thought about it, there weren't that many that he could recall. He supposed that he could talk about a moment from back before the deaths of his parents, but he didn't think it would be as impactful or something Ponyboy wanted to listen to.

Does he really not have any memorable, happy times with his little brother? Was he so transfixed on his jobs and making sure that Ponyboy was getting good grades in school that he totally disregarded the fact that they were drifting apart?

He wasn't proud of it, but the memory that kept coming into mind revolved around school and grades.

…

 _Ponyboy sighed at his desk, flipping a page of his history textbook when Darry barged in his room. A paper was in his hand and Ponyboy glanced up with a bored and tired expression. "What?" he asked, already feeling annoyance bubble in him. "I'm reading the textbook like you asked me to do."_

 _Darry shook his head. "I'm glad that you are, but that's not why I came in here."_

" _Then why are you here?" Ponyboy practically snapped at him and Darry practically cringed on the inside._

 _He shook the piece of paper in the air. "Your report card came in the mail."_

 _Darry watched as his brother turned pale, flinching. He fiddled nervously in his seat, eyes shifting somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't at his brother. "I tried my best," he stammered, sweating something fierce. "I tried my absolute hardest. I'm sorry for my bad grades—"_

" _Relax, Pones," Darry cut him off, frowning at Ponyboy's reaction. "I'm not here to scold you."_

" _You're… not?" Ponyboy snapped his head back to Darry with questioning eyes._

" _No! You did great. Straight As!"_

" _Oh." Ponyboy let out a huge sigh of relief. "Is that all you wanted to say?"_

" _Well, I also came to ask you if you wanted to go out to get ice cream or something. A reward for you doing so well."_

 _Ponyboy raised an eyebrow. He wasn't used to Darry treating him this way. "Really?"_

" _Yes! Is it really that hard to believe?"_

" _I just… didn't expect you to offer to get me ice cream, is all."_

 _Darry could feel his lips twitch. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Let's go, or I might change my mind."_

" _Yeah, let's go." Ponyboy grinned and jumped onto his feet, following his older brother to the truck. They drove in awkward silence, making Ponyboy sort of regret his decision in joining Darry for ice cream._

 _He should have stayed inside the house._

" _So…" Darry started, at a loss for words. He didn't know what to talk about. "How are you doing in track?"_

" _Alright," Ponyboy answered, letting them fall back into silence until they obtained their ice cream from Dairy Queens._

 _The two of them sat down at one of the tables outside because it was "nice out" and Darry didn't want to risk getting ice cream on his seats._

 _Darry then decided to try starting a conversation again. Ponyboy just wanted to eat his ice cream and go back to his room._

" _So…" he started and Ponyboy glanced at him with a really-you-are-going-to-try-again expression. "Any new books that you like?"_

 _Ponyboy's eyes instantly lit up at the question like a switch was turned on inside of him._

' _Oh, thank God,' Darry cried out in his head._

" _Yeah! I'm reading Catcher in the Rye! It's about this guy named Holden who…"_

 _Darry nodded, smiling at how bright Ponyboy became. He had little to no interest in what Ponyboy was talking about and tuned him out. He just enjoyed seeing the excited expression on his brother's face. It made up for everything. He wished that Pony smiled all the time. He had a really nice smile._

…

Darry sighed. When Ponyboy recovers, he vowed to spend more time with him. He couldn't stand the fact that that moment he just recalled was one of the best that he had with him. He hated the gap between them and how they were always arguing. He wanted everything to change. He wanted to learn more about his brother, because, besides the fact that Ponyboy was a smart person who didn't use his head, like movies and books, and liked to run and draw… he knew next to nothing.

He frowned. They weren't always like this. They used to be really close. When did they even drift apart?

"When you recover, I'm going to change everything," Darry declared, standing up to send Soda in.

 **o-o-o**

There was an awkward silence in the room. Everything was tense and the thick atmosphere could probably be felt from outside the room.

Soda was sitting in a chair, fiddling with the sheets on Ponyboy's bed to distract him from his urge to move the hair out of his brother's eyes or to hold his hand. He couldn't do that again. Not after the reaction he received the first time he tried. The image of Pony's deformed and twisted body was scarred into his brain.

"Please, get better soon," Soda whispered so quietly that he barely heard it himself. He sighed, pushing himself backward to lean back against the backrest of the chair. He had to talk to Pony, he remembered. He had to help him get better.

They had a lot of great memories together, so retelling these stories should have been a breeze.

But it wasn't.

It was almost ironic. They were practically the closest brothers in the world, but Soda couldn't remember anything. Maybe it was because he had to think of something in the heat of the moment. Maybe not.

He frowned, eyes casting downward in shame and frustration. Why couldn't he think of anything? He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

' _Think of something! Anything!'_ Soda was screaming at his brain, but with each second that passed, he felt his chest become heavier.

He couldn't do it.

He felt like a failure of a brother. Everybody else probably had no problem talking to Ponyboy, yet, he just couldn't. It felt like there was a lump in his throat and that he was going to suffocate from the pressure. The walls were closing in on him. He had to get out and leave. It was hard to breathe like someone was pressing on his stomach. He had to go. Oh, God, he had to leave.

"Sorry, Pony," he choked out, sweat making his skin shine. Run. Run. Run. Soda shot up from his chair, rushing out the door to the room.

 **o-o-o**

Johnny stepped into the room. Ponyboy turned his head towards the noise, staring blankly pass him but with fear eminent on his face. Johnny looked apologetically at his friend. He should have closed the door more carefully. Pony was probably thinking he was going to be tortured again.

"Hey Ponyboy," he greeted softly. Ponyboy didn't react. "I'm so relieved that you're back."

Again, he was left in silence. Johnny was expecting as much. He sat down next to the bed, twiddling his fingers and shifting around in uneasiness. He searched his mind for words but came up fruitless. Johnny sighed. He thought talking to his friend about good times they had would be easy, but it wasn't.

He dragged his fingers through his air. His anxiety was unbearable, his sweat making his shirt damp and gross. Johnny opened his mouth, a breathy sound emitting, but he couldn't form any words.

It shouldn't be this hard. Pony was his _best friend_. They had long, deep conversations without any problems before. This shouldn't be anything different. In fact, it should have been a hundred times easier.

But it wasn't.

He was comfortable with Ponyboy and they knew everything about each other… but… he didn't recognize the boy in front of him at all. It looked like his friend, minus the skeletal appearance, but he didn't act like him. There was no trace of his friend left. Ponyboy was just a body without a soul. He practically was dead.

But he knew that he had to speak. If it meant being able to fully get his friend back, he had to force himself to talk, no matter how uncomfortable he was.

Where would he even start?

That's when the perfect memory came to mind.

"Remember that time you took me hiking?" Johnny recalled, chuckling lightly at the memory. "Golly, I thought you were trying to kill me."

…

" _Ponyboy! Hey, wait up!" Johnny called out, scurrying along the dirt path. Ponyboy stopped, turning around with a brilliant smile on his lips. Johnny would never admit it, but, at that moment, Ponyboy looked absolutely stunning. The light that shone through the canopy of leaves above them danced on his skin. The color of his hair and eyes went aesthetically well with the fall colors of the flora, making it seem like he was completely one with the environment._

 _Pony repositioned his backpack, leaning on one leg. "Hurry up! We're going to miss it!" he hollered back._

 _After a few moments, Johnny finally came to a stop at Pony's side, breathing heavily. "What are you taking me to see, man?"_

" _You'll see." Ponyboy spoke those words with a sing-song voice, making Johnny even more curious._

" _How much longer do we have left? We've been walking for hours. It's going to be dark soon."_

" _A few more miles, I think."_

 _Johnny gasped, looking at Ponyboy with a horrified expression. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?" He only received a giggle in return. "What's Darry going to think if you're late?"_

 _Ponyboy froze as if finally coming to the realization of the dilemma. But whatever was running in his head quickly passed. He shrugged. "This will be worth it."_

 _They hiked for a few more miles before Ponyboy decided to step off the trail to the bottom of a small cliff. Johnny knew what he was thinking about doing and he didn't like it one bit. He stared at his friend with a stupefied expression, shaking his head rapidly. "You're trying to kill me."_

" _Come on, Johnnycakes, it's just over this cliff. It's not even that big. It's just a few feet above us!"_

 _Johnny sighed, looking uncertainly at Pony. With a sigh, he reluctantly agreed, starting his climb up the small cliff. Ponyboy was a lot swifter, making it to the top a lot faster than Johnny, who was struggling. He never rock climbed before and, man, was it difficult. His muscles screamed at him to just give up and find an alternate route. The next time he looked above him he saw that Ponyboy had already scaled the cliff, reaching down with his hand extended. Johnny grabbed a hold of it and dug his toes into the side of the cliff, letting his friend pull him up._

 _When he finally stepped onto the ground, he rolled onto his back dramatically. "Why couldn't we find another route?" he whined._

" _That was the easiest path," Ponyboy answered with a shrug, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. "Now, get up. We made it just in time."_

 _A hand was extended again and Johnny took it, allowing Ponyboy to pull him up again. They walked to the other end of the ledge they were on, plopping down._

" _Made it in time for what?" Johnny asked again, looking at the trees that were below them. He wondered how high they hiked._

" _Just look!"_

 _Johnny did, unsure of what exactly Ponyboy was referring to, but his breath got caught in his throat when he realized what it was._

 _The sun was setting, making the clouds turn into different hues of gold, orange, red, and pink. He never realized that the sky could be any color other than blue or black until that moment. The sun was positioned halfway behind the line of trees as if it was tucking itself into a blanket. It was calm. Tranquil. He never took the time to observe the sunset, but, man, was it sure pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off of it like he was in a trance. Now that he witnessed the sunset, he couldn't help but see Ponyboy in it. If there was anything that would describe who Ponyboy was—what his personality was, how he impacted people around him—it would be a sunset. Hands down._

 _He looked over to Pony who had a small smile on his lips, eyes sparkling. Johnny couldn't help but grin himself. He turned his attention back to the sky, watching the sunset until the sun ducked under the horizon, leaving them in darkness._

" _Golly…" was all Johnny could get out, absolutely speechless. Ponyboy hummed beside him, a peaceful smile on his lips._

" _I wish the sky was always pretty like that," he whispered, a hint of drowsiness in his voice._

" _I do too…"_

…

As Johnny finished his recollection, a small smile was on his lips. He almost forgot about that memory, but it was one of his favorites. A small tear fell down his face, and Johnny quickly rubbed it away. While Johnny was busy trying to recollect himself, he didn't notice Ponyboy glance in his general direction with teary eyes.

Ponyboy was confused. The voices that usually spat negative words at him were making him remember some of his favorite memories. It made his chest feel warm and made him feel almost relieved.

Then a thought struck him.

What if he was dying and he was witnessing his life flashed before his eyes?

No, it didn't feel like he was dying. He wasn't in pain or anything. He felt very much alive and tethered to the earth. The voices were just letting him remember euphoric memories. It didn't make sense. None of it did.

The voices kept telling him that he was safe and Ponyboy wanted to so desperately believe that. If only he could use his eyes.

But what if he _was_ safe? Should he regain hope and risk becoming even more hurt?

He heard someone shuffle next to him. It could have been Vincent. It had to be him. But it wouldn't hurt to try to talk to whoever was next to him. He just wouldn't let him get his hopes up because he knew that it was Vincent next to him.

He opened his mouth and croaked out, "Johnny?"


	12. Safe Zone

**I'm so sorry for the really late update. I had a few weeks filled with midterms and I didn't have any time to write. I'm sorry. This will probably happen again when I have finals, so, just a warning in advance. I just don't want people to worry or get angry about my sudden disappearances.**

 **Also, I totally forgot that I said that there were tubes down Ponyboy's throat at the end of the last chapter, so there is a small part in here addressing that. Whoops ^^;**

 **o-o-o**

The hospital was buzzing. Everyone was on edge, running around in scrubs or crying in distress. People a mile away could feel how stressed everyone was in the hospital. Not the room where Ponyboy resided in though. His room was absolutely silent like it was in a separate plane of existence than the rest of the building. If it wasn't for the equipment inside the room, Johnny would have forgotten that they were inside a hospital.

He stared at his friend's beat-up body in the bed, not believing what he just uttered. He just said his name! Johnny was gaping, eyes wider than plates. He was frozen, unable to fully comprehend what he just witnessed, no matter how simple it was.

For a moment, he thought that Ponyboy had fallen back asleep and was just dreaming about him, in a not weird way. Having Ponyboy talk to him seemed like a far-off dream. Then, Ponyboy spoke again, but this time he just mumbled, "Not real…" A frown formed on his face. Johnny then realized that the doctors removed the tubes that were practically shoved down his throat. When did they do that? But he had more pressing matters to pay attention to than missing breathing tubes.

"I'm here," Johnny said panickily, immediately, rushing back to Pony's side. "I'm really here. I'm not a hallucination."

There was a long pause as a crinkle formed in-between Ponyboy's brows in both confusion and frustration like he was having a war with himself.

"You're safe, Ponyboy," Johnny reassured. "You're in the hospital. We found you."

Ponyboy shook his head. Tears cornering his eyes. Johnny reached over to wipe them away but stopped midway. He wasn't supposed to touch him. "You're cruel… trying to make me regain hope."

Johnny was getting desperate now. He huffed, voice shifting to high and whiny. "You're really here. Ponyboy, please believe me."

Another pause. What was Ponyboy supposed to believe? There was no way that he was safe. His mind always plays tricks on him. However, it was always negative to make him lose hope… not regain it. But maybe that was the point. Maybe they wanted to pull the rug out from under him again. He didn't want to get hurt again. Ponyboy didn't think he could take it if he what was being said to him was a lie.

But, what if? Oh, God, what if?

He didn't want to have hope, but he was already beginning to regain it. "Really?" he asked, hopefully, wanting to cross his fingers, but he barely felt them.

"Yeah… Can't you tell?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what's real or what's my imagination anymore," he choked, voice cracking.

All Johnny could do is look pitifully at Pony. What could he do to make him believe that he was really there? Then, an idea formed in his head. "Hey, Ponyboy, can I try something? Can I hold your hand, so you know that I'm real?"

Ponyboy wanted to say yes, he really did. But he didn't want anyone to touch him. Not after what Vincent did to him. Not while he could still feel the madman's touch on him. Not after how his body was reacting to being defiled. He was disgusting; dirty. If this _was_ indeed Johnny, he would be disgusted and probably abandon him for good if he found out what had happened to him.

"No… No…"

"Please, Ponyboy… I won't hurt you."

But that wasn't the problem Ponyboy was thinking about. But the heartbreak that he heard in Johnny's voice made him reconsider everything. He was causing so much pain and stress to Johnny. He was being a hindrance to him. He was being bad. Ponyboy didn't want to be bad. He got hurt if he was bad. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Okay…"

Johnny let out a sigh of relief, slowly reaching towards Ponyboy's better hand. Upon the slightest contact, Ponyboy flinched but still kept his hand in place for Johnny to continue. His fingers were shaking, but he relaxed when he felt a smooth hand wrap around his. It was warm and soft. It was different than Vincent's callused, rough, and cold hands. They were small and familiar.

The tears that were holding onto the rims of his eyes finally let go, falling onto the pillow below him. It really was Johnny. He really was found. He squeezed back, hands still shaking, but for a different reason. "I thought… I thought that no one was going to find me."

Ponyboy's sobs felt like someone was chiseling away at Johnny's heart. "We never stopped searching for you."

"He told me you did stop… It's been so long. I waited for so long to be found."

"I know, but you're here now. You're safe."

"I'm safe…" Ponyboy repeated, sighing and relaxing back in bed. Was Vincent really gone? Was he put behind bars?

Johnny pulled his hand away. "I'm going to tell the gang that you're awake. I'll be right back."

He went to leave again, but Ponyboy shook his head, whimpering. "Don't leave me alone. Please. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Johnny's face softened. "It'll only take a few minutes. I'll come back, don't worry."

He exited the room, leaving Ponyboy to his lonesome. The beeping of the heart monitor became annoyingly apparent. Not long after Johnny stepped out, the door opened again very slowly. The hinges creaked, letting out a long screech. At first, Ponyboy thought that Johnny came back or someone else from the gang entered, but they said nothing. The person shuffled in the room, slowly approaching him. Instinctively, Ponyboy tensed up. A part of him was blaring warning signs at him, but he couldn't do anything; not while he was still bound to the bed. Whoever was in the room started to mess with his feeding tube. He could feel the tube jostling in his tried to relax. It was probably a nurse. Vincent was behind bars. No harm could come to him anymore.

Before he knew it, the person started to walk away, and Ponyboy let out a huge breath that he didn't know he was holding. The door opened, followed by Two-Bit exclaiming, "Whoa! Almost bumped into you."

The nurse grumbled before pushing past Two-Bit who stared at the man's retreating back with questioning eyes. "Weird…" he muttered but shrugged it off. He probably was having a bad day or was just antisocial. He turned to Ponyboy with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Ponyboy!" Pony winced at the booming voice.

"Shh," Darry hushed, coming up behind Two-Bit and slapping the back of his head. The gang entered the lonely, private hospital room. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was just bulldozed," Ponyboy gruffly answered with a pained, empty chuckle. It was fake and forced, but the gang was all glad to hear it even if they didn't know if it was real or not. "I thought I would never hear any of your voices ever again."

"All that matters is that you're safe and we are together again."

Johnny whispered something to Ponyboy before he reached over and moved his hair out of his face. Ponyboy flinched, but let him do so, shocking both Darry and Soda. The last time they tried to touch him, it didn't end well whatsoever.

"He lets you touch him?" Darry asked, not noticing how Ponyboy tensed up at the sentence.

Shrugging, Johnny answered, "Not much. He doesn't like it."

They were all beyond elated. There was so much improvement that had happened since when he was brought into this hospital.

Everyone started to talk with Ponyboy, trying their best to catch him up with everything he missed. Everyone but Sodapop Curtis. He was standing behind the entire group, staring sadly at his brother. It felt like he was far away from everyone like they were already at the end of the tunnel that he can't reach. There was a pang in his heart seeing Ponyboy in a far better condition than when he came in, talking with everyone, although it wasn't very much, and letting Johnny sometimes touch him. Don't get him wrong, he's happy that there was so much improvement. But… Soda didn't do anything. He didn't contribute at all. He didn't tell a story or do anything. Ponyboy didn't need him. He was scared of him, which was made very apparent by how he reacted when he touched him.

Soda looked at his clammy hands with disgust and remorse. He could still remember how twisted Ponyboy's body got when he tried to hold his hand. He remembered how Ponyboy screamed and thrashed around, unable to recognize him.

"Where's Soda?" Ponyboy suddenly asked, catching his attention. "Is he not here?"

The gang all turned to stare at Soda with slight confusion. Soda opened his mouth before closing it. He stepped forward. "I'm here, baby," Soda answered breathily. His heart was beating fast as he was grateful for the acknowledgment. "I'm here."

He didn't know what else to say. The room fell into an awkward silence before Darry decided to change the topic. "So, the policeman that found you is going to come in soon to ask you a few questions about what happened down in the basement. Is that alright?" Darry asked.

Ponyboy hesitated, chewing his cracked lips. His hands trembled before his head shook from side to side. "I don't… I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on, Pone, talking about it could help you out," Two-Bit piped.

. . .

 _Ponyboy's body stiffened, eyes widening as a jolt of electricity bolted through his body. His body felt like it was vibrating, and it felt like a thousand needs were piercing through his body. His teeth bit down hard on the belt that was shoved into his mouth._

 _It felt like time had stopped, freezing him in the state of immense pain. But he knew that it was only a few seconds before his body collapsed back down, shaking. He breathed heavily, but he barely had enough time to take a few breaths before the shockwave ran through his body again._

' _Shall we raise the voltage?' Vincent asked. Ponyboy knew that it wasn't a question, but he shook his head, whimpering when the electricity stopped._

 _Vincent reached over to turn the dial to a higher voltage. Ponyboy bit harder into the leather, closing his eyes to help him brace for another wave of pain._

' _Ready?' he heard before he screamed as pain that he never felt before washed over him._

 _. . ._

"I don't want to talk about it!" Ponyboy suddenly yelled, voice cracking. The heart monitor was beeping like crazy, causing most of them to panic slightly.

"Okay, okay… Just calm down," Darry tried to soothe. "The policeman still has to come in and talk to you, okay? It'll be really nice and helpful if you talk. But just speak about what you are most comfortable about."

Reluctantly, Ponyboy nodded. He was confused about why they had to ask him about that at all, but he wasn't in the mood to argue. His stomach started to hurt, cramping up into a tight knot. He felt stick like he was about to throw up. He wished that it was just nerves getting to him, but his head was pounding like a sledgehammer smashed into it (and he knows what that feels like). Sweat was already starting to layer his skin, trying to cool him off from the immense heat he was starting to feel, but it felt like it did nothing.

In the back of Ponyboy's mind, something kept screaming at him that something was wrong with him. There probably was, but he was way too exhausted to even do anything about it. He just wanted to sleep, but he didn't want to at the same time. Sleeping meant being trapped in the basement again. But it wasn't like he had another choice anyway. Darry already informed him that the policeman was coming in a few hours.

The policeman entered the room hours later as Darry said he would but Ponyboy was in no mood to talk. It wasn't just because he didn't want to be reminded about what happened, he just felt like, if he talked, all of the contents in his stomach was going to come spewing out.

"Hello, Ponyboy, do you remember my voice?" the policeman asked. He didn't. So, Ponyboy shook his head. "I'm who found you. I'm glad that you're doing so much better than back then. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Ponyboy heard paper crumpling as the policeman pulled out a notepad.

"First," he continued. "How did they capture you? Can you recall what happened?"

He could. It was scarred into his brain. But he shook his head, not wanting to talk.

The policeman sighed. "Can you tell me who took you?"

Ponyboy shook his head.

"Why not? Do you know what they look like?"

Ponyboy shook his head again.

"So, they blinded you pretty early on… How long do you think you were down there?"

Ponyboy didn't know. It was multiple months, for sure. Vincent told him that he was there for several months, possibly half a year. It sure felt longer though. To him, it felt like at least two years.

"Six months?"

He heard gasps from his brothers and friends. "Did he really think he was down there for that long?" he heard Dally ask.

"Son, you were only gone for a little over a month."

Now it was Ponyboy's turned to be shocked. That couldn't be right. No way was it only about a month. It felt so much longer. He was told that it was so much longer. But, then again, why would the policeman lie? Vincent would, now that he thought about it more. He wondered how much Vincent lied to him while he was down there.

But he didn't have any energy to fight. He really felt sick. The next thing he knew, Ponyboy was turning his body as far as it could to the side, feeling something come up his throat. But, instead of food like he was expecting it to be, blood pooled out, splattering across the ground. He heard everyone to shout in surprise, calling for help.

He should have been worried and panicked like everyone else, but he found himself surprisingly calm. All that was on his mind while he threw up blood again was the thought, 'Well, that isn't good.'


	13. Drowning in an Ocean of Blood

The room went into hysterics, screaming for help. Ponyboy could barely hear them over the deafening buzzing in his ears. He wasn't sure exactly what was happening. He felt pain blossom across his body, but he guessed the shock made him sort of numb, in a way. All he saw was red as he threw up more blood. Oh, man, that's a lot of blood…

"Help, someone help! He's throwing up blood!" he heard Darry scream, followed by many unrecognizable voices.

"What happened?" someone asked, probably a doctor.

"He just suddenly started throwing up blood."

"Do you think it's something I said? I mean, I haven't told him that the person who took him is still loose," the policeman said, worriedly.

Ponyboy snapped his attention towards the policeman. There was a pool of blood in his mouth, but he managed to gurgle out, "What? He's still out there?" He threw the blood out, coughing. His heart was beating like crazy, but he didn't know if it was from what was happening to him or if it was from what he just heard. Maybe both.

But he didn't care about that. All he could focus on then was the fact that Vincent was still running around. He was going to come after him and kill them. Oh, God, Vincent was going to get him. He was going to get him!

He started to breathe erratically, unable to take in air correctly. Blood got sucked into his throat, clogging it; making it feel like he was drowning.

 _He was drowning in his own blood._

Ponyboy thrashed around in his restraints. He had to get away. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in the basement. Vincent was going to punish him.

"Ponyboy, I'm going to need you to calm down, okay?" he heard someone ask him, but he shook his head, feeling his lungs burn. He tried to suck more air in, but it only ended up in more blood going down his throat.

"What's happening to him?" Soda asked.

"He's choking on his own blood," the doctor answered. "Hurry, turn him onto his stomach!"

He felt hands touch him and Ponyboy went ballistic. His eyes widened and he screamed, which sounded muffled by how much blood there was. He thrashed against the person's hold, snapping his head in the direction of who was holding him. Blood was dribbling down his chin, teeth red, making him look like he was coming straight out of a horror movie. To him, it felt like he was still in one.

"I need help over here!" the person screamed. More hands touched him, unclipping his restraints to make the flipping easier. He kicked wildly even though each small movement felt like his leg was being crushed again.

"Please, exit the room. You're in the way," a nurse said to the gang. They nodded, quickly exiting the room, but not before they looked back at the disturbing scene. They only removed their eyes from the younger man when the door closed completely.

Ponyboy felt his body become weaker at each passing second. He was dying, he thought. But, honestly, he didn't mind that. At one point, he stopped struggling, but he didn't know when. Man, was he tired…

"We're losing him!" someone screamed.

"We need to find out what happened! We need to test his blood! Get a sample!"

"Do we even have time?!"

"Do it! It's the only way!"

He was finally flipped over, broken bones jostling at the process. He cried out in pain, but his comfort was the least of their worries at the moment. His body felt like it was on fire and he struggled to keep consciousness. Minutes later the nurse came rushing back in with the blood test results. She flipped the documents in the air before handing it to the doctor. When had they taken his blood?

"Arsenic? How did he get arsenic poisoning?" the doctor asked. There was a long pause. "We need to get the arsenic out of his system, but we need to know the source. Check the food and water to see if it has something to do with them."

Ponyboy was breathing slowly and heavily now, the blood slowly sliding out of his mouth. The new position he was in made it easier for everything to flow out, no matter how much his body hated it. He kept still, so still in fact that he practically seemed dead to everyone.

"There're traces of arsenic in his food. We need to pump it out of him, stat. Put him under."

All of a sudden, it felt like his small movements were sluggish, heavy as if he was wearing weights. He felt everything around him moving like he was lying on an inflatable in water, feeling consciousness leave him no matter how hard he fought it.

 **o-o-o**

The gang was all pacing around the waiting room, waiting for something to happen. They constantly looked down the hallway where Ponyboy's room was.

It took hours until the doctor came out again, looking distraught. His uniform was covered in patches of Ponyboy's blood. Johnny gulped looking at him. He prayed that Ponyboy was alright.

"How is he?" Darry asked, stepping up.

"He's fine," the doctor reassured. They all let out their breaths in relief, but they weren't relaxed at all. "We're lucky that we caught it before it got worse. A few minutes… at most an hour… he might have…"

The doctor trailed off, not having to fully explain. The gang understood, feeling their blood run cold.

"What… What happened? Why did he…" Soda pressed.

"Arsenic… a poison."

"Arsenic?" Darry's eyes hardened, hands clenching into fists tightly. "How did he get arsenic poisoning?"

The doctor shook his head. "That's what we're trying to fully understand. We found it in his food. We always check the food before giving it to our patients, so we don't fully understand what exactly happened."

"So, you're saying that someone poisoned him?" Steve asked.

"That's one conclusion. There's no way to be sure. For all we know, we could have missed something when we checked it."

"What a coincidence…" Darry grumbled. It really was. What were the chances of this happening? How could so much arsenic be placed in one bag of food?

"Do you think that Ponyboy's kidnapper did this?" Soda asked, worriedly.

"But how could he be able to do that? He would have had to have to get into his room to do that. We never left him alone. There was always one of us in the room with him, and, if we weren't. there is a policeman standing right outside the room," Steve pointed out.

"Then, who could have snuck in the room without being stopped?" Dally asked.

Two-Bit was frowning deeply. His brain kept going back to the nurse that bumped into him earlier. There was something about him that just didn't stand right to him. He remembered the nurse's dull yet calculating eyes. For the split second that their eyes met, Two-Bit felt like he was a small prey and the man was a predator in the middle of a hunt. "You know… there was that one nurse who… who just gave me a weird feeling. Something about him seemed off."

"Seemed off?" Soda muttered.

"It was just a feeling, and only nurses or doctors could enter the room beside us."

"You don't think that he dressed as a nurse and poisoned his food…?" Johnny theorized, eyes looking around him. He shook. He never thought about it before, but the kidnapper could be anyone. They didn't look like monsters. They looked like everyone else. He could be anywhere, even a few feet away from him, and he wouldn't know.

"But if he had the chance, why didn't he just kill him right there? It makes no sense! Why did he pick arsenic when he knew that we would be able to save him?" Steve asked.

The question was left on everyone's mind. It really did not make any sense. Why didn't he just finish Ponyboy off? "What if… he wasn't trying to kill Ponyboy at all?" Johnny spoke up, snapping everyone's attention to him. "He knew that he would be saved."

"What are you talking about?" Two-Bit questioned.

"I mean… he tortured Ponyboy and took joy into it, I think. What if this was just some sort of torture…?" They all shivered, feeling sick to their stomach. If that was true, it means that Ponyboy was never saved at all. To him, the torture never ended.

"I need to contact security. They might still be in the hospital," the doctor announced, scurrying off.

"Do you know what he looked like?" the policeman asked Two-Bit.

Two-Bit only shook his head. "He had one of those sick-masks on. I couldn't tell what he looked like," he replied, feeling despair that he didn't know what the man looked like it.

"It can't be helped…"

The doctor returned, looked even more stressed than before. "Security is now working on finding the intruder. But, in the meantime, let's talk about Ponyboy's future release."

"He's going to be able to get out?" Soda asked, amazed.

"Although we need more time to observe his condition and for him to recover from what just happened, I would estimate that he would be able to be released in two weeks or so. He's been showing a miraculous recovery. Make sure you watch him though. He's still mentally unstable. I have no say in this, but I would just send him to a mental hospital. He needs all the help he can get."

"We'll help him."

"You might not be able to take him. You think that at first, but you haven't had any experience in taking care of someone who's been through hell. You might grow tired of him."

"We could never grow tired of him," Darry declared.

"Well… if you say so… Anyways, when he leaves, we will send you your bill."

Darry frowned at that. He was dreading the time where he would have to pay for everything. He already knew that there was no way that he was going to able to pay for it. The cost would send them into debt that would most likely take their entire lives to pay off, even with multiple jobs.

But it was worth it, Darry had to remind himself. It was for Ponyboy, and he was worth the expense. All that mattered was that his kid brother was alive. He would sell his entire life away for him.

"Alright," Darry said. "Thank you so much."

 **o-o-o**

"I'm being let out?" Ponyboy asked, unsure if he heard correctly.

"Isn't that great?" Soda asked.

Ponyboy slowly nodded, although he didn't believe himself. He would love to go home, but Vincent knew where he lived. But, then again, he knew where he was now too. He knew that Vincent was responsible for the arsenic poisoning. He wasn't safe… not here; not anywhere. Vincent was coming after him. It was only a matter of time until he got bored of him and kills him dead. Even if Vincent was out of the picture, he would prefer to be in the hospital, even though he wasn't allowed to do anything but sit there all day. It was like a better version of a prison.

Leaving would be better, but he didn't deserve better. He deserved to be locked away.

…

 _The blindfold was yanked off of his head, letting him look ahead of him. His vision was blurry, and his eyes hurt because from not being used often enough._

" _Is that him?" someone asked, making Ponyboy look at the source of the voice. It was a man. At first, he thought it was Vincent, but it wasn't. The voice didn't match. His voice was nasally, and his words were slurred like he was drunk. Someone else was behind him but Ponyboy didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He didn't need to hear a voice. He just knew._

" _Yeah, it is," Vincent answered, breath brushing against Ponyboy's ear, sending shivers down his spine._

" _And I can do whatever I want with him?"_

 _Whatever he wants? What was he going on about? What was going to happen to him this time?_

" _That was the deal we made. Whatever you want to do."_

 _A wicked grin crossed the man's lips. His eyes glistened with mischief and interest. Ponyboy watched him walk towards him when his head was yanked backward. He yelped, veins appearing in his vision. He gritted his teeth, breathing in-and-out deeply to help alleviate some of the pain. Something thin was slipped into his hand after the rope that bound tightly around his wrists was cut. He felt his fingers dip into a leather grip. A hunting knife, Ponyboy recognized, flashes of the time when he was taken hunting passed his mind. He never had the guts to kill anything with it or use it in any matter. He only held it once, but the grip was so recognizable._

" _Listen here," Vincent whispered. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to take this knife and you're going to either stab him or slice open his throat."_

" _Wh-What?" Ponyboy tried to turn his head, but the grip on his hair was too tight. He only pulled on his hair more. Holy shit. Vincent wanted him to murder the stranger. Oh, God. He couldn't do that. His hands trembled behind him, the grip of the knife felt slippery in his clammy palms. There was no way he could kill someone. No way! He shut his eyes tightly when he felt his sweat fall into his eyes. "No. I-I-I won't do it."_

 _The grip tightened on his head, making it feel like all of his hair was being ripped off of his scalp. "What's wrong? It's not like you haven't seen someone die before." The image of the glassy eyes of the woman that tried to save him flashed in his head. He could still vividly see the vibrant blood on her pale skin and her horrifically-morphed expression. He felt like throwing up at the mere recollection. "You're going to do it."_

 _Ponyboy looked at the stranger again. He was so close now. Ponyboy tried to drop the knife but Vincent's other hand closed his fist. The stranger stopped only inches away from Ponyboy, crouching down. His hand caressed his chin, examining him closely. Ponyboy had the urge to spit at him but flinched instead._

" _Do it," Vincent hissed. "Now!"_

" _No! Please, don't make me. I don't want to do it! Please!" Ponyboy pleaded, tears falling down his eyes._

" _It's easy! See?" His hand grabbed a hold of his wrist._

" _Do what?" the man asked, looking at Vincent._

" _No!" Ponyboy screamed as his arm was yanked out from behind his back, blade pointed towards the stranger. "Stop!"_

" _What the—" was all the man got out before Vincent forced Ponyboy to swing his arm. The blade sliced through the man's throat like it was butter. The stranger gasped as oxygen failed to flow through him. Blood spewed out of the cut and splattering onto Pony, but that wasn't what bothered him. It was the horrified look in the stranger's eyes. They were shocked like he didn't know what exactly was happening to him. He reached up and tried to close the cut with his hands, but they did practically nothing. Ponyboy could only stare at him, whimpering, as the man's body fell to the ground in a heap._

" _See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Vincent asked, amusement in his voice._

" _I-I-I…" was all Ponyboy managed to let out, now just realizing that his shaking hand was still holding the bloody knife. He tried to drop it and recoil from it, but Vincent moved his hand to tighten his fist again. He pushed his body forward, sending Ponyboy stumbling into the near-dead man. Vincent reeled Pony's arm back, shooting it forward. The knife sunk into the man's stomach. "Stop… Stop it."_

 _Vincent forced his arm to withdraw before making the knife plunge in his stomach again. "Stop it!" Ponyboy screamed, stiffening up his arm, but it was useless as the knife stabbed the man over and over again. At one point, the man stopped breathing, but Ponyboy didn't know exactly when. He also didn't notice when Vincent let go, letting him slump forward in a bawling mess._

" _Clean up, the mess," Vincent ordered. Ponyboy looked up at the corpse, feeling sick. It was almost the same face as the girl. Oh, god, he just killed someone. Pony looked at his hands, seeing them all bloody. He just fucking murdered someone. He felt the little food he had in his stomach crawl up his throat and jump out of his mouth. He threw his head to the side, going on all fours, gagging as his vomit exited him._

' _It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault!' Ponyboy chanted in his head to try to lower his stress, but it didn't do any good. He pried his eyes away from the corpse, dragging his body towards the bleach, but a foot slammed into his back, forcing him against the floor. He gasped in pain, feeling his ribs jab at his insides._

" _No, you need to help me get rid of the body first."_

 _What? Ponyboy wanted to turn his head to stare at Vincent in shock. But he knew looking at him was a huge 'no-no'. First, Vincent made him kill someone and now he wants him to hide the body? He shook his head, but he was pulled up from the floor and back to the corpse. The knife was placed back into his hand and Ponyboy felt his vision swim. His breathing was shallow as he could barely hold the knife correctly with how much he was shaking._

" _Cut up the bodies in small pieces. Make sure your hands do not touch him."_

 _But all Ponyboy could do was shake. Vincent sighed, grabbing his arm again. "Want me to show you how to do this?"_

" _N-No!" He tried to pull back, but he couldn't._

 _The knife was placed on the man's armpit before they started to move in a sawing motion. Blood was pooling everywhere, coming out of the cut so much that it made seeing where the slice was difficult. The knife passed through easily, cutting through bones._

 _Someone was screaming, and Ponyboy was mostly sure that it was him before he threw up again._

" _Keep going," Vincent commanded when the arm was severed off of the body. With trembling hands, Ponyboy followed orders. His body was soaked head to toe in the man's blood. He didn't even know that someone had that much blood in their system. Once he was done, Vincent patted his head like it was supposed to comfort him. "I would have never let him touch you. You're mine only."_

 _Ponyboy would have shivered if he didn't feel so dead on the inside. "Why…" he breathed out. "Why did you make me do that…?"_

" _To teach you that, no matter what I tell you to do, you must do it."_

…

He was guilty. He shouldn't be let free.

A sudden change from darkness to a bright light filled his blind vision. His body was rolling somewhere. He was in a wheelchair. When had he been placed in one?

The wheelchair exited the hospital with Ponyboy in it. The sun on his skin was warm. It's been forever since he felt it. It was nice, something he missed greatly. "Time to go home," Soda said.

He didn't want to go home though.


	14. Right Over Your Shoulder

So dark. He was surrounded by shadows, walls whispering incoherent words to him. Even though his hands were shielding his ears, the whispers were so loud, making them practically useless. He could feel a thousand eyes on him like he was a zoo animal. He could feel everything around him approach closer, suffocating him. His eye skittered around the room, despite not being able to see. He wished he could so that he could identify danger and be able to act if necessary. But he couldn't. Ponyboy was a sitting duck waiting to be taken down by a predator.

Vincent could be anywhere. He could even be right behind him, looming over his shoulder. He was still out there, waiting for the perfect moment to get him. It was going to happen no matter how much protection he had. Ponyboy was never safe and he never will be. Vincent always got his way.

Ponyboy blinked heavily. How long has it been since he last slept? No more than a week, probably. Then again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. His body was exhausted, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. But he couldn't. He refused to fall asleep. If he let his guard down for one moment, Vincent would get him. If he even just blinks, the memories would slam into him, making him replay everything all over again. He scratched at his bandaged hand, wanting to unravel it so that he could press his nails in his peeled flesh.

So, that's why, he declared that he would keep moving, even if that meant not sleeping. He would get caught if he stopped.

After being released from the hospital, he moved back into his room; not with Soda. He was still getting used to being with people again and did not want any physical contact. It was better that way. Plus, it seemed like Soda didn't want him back in his room anyways with how hesitant he was when it came to where Ponyboy slept.

Although he felt hurt when Soda didn't want him there, he was, in a way, grateful. Having his own room made it easier to stay awake. When he was in the hospital, they would always knock him out with some sort of drug, but, at home, there was nothing forcing him to lose consciousness. It was the best of both worlds. He could recover with comfort and he wouldn't be as much as a burden to his brothers.

That's how Ponyboy found himself with his legs swung over the side of the mattress. A cast was still wrapped around his leg, but he ignored how much it was screaming at him in pain as he stood up, gripping onto the headboard so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His knees instantly buckled, making him have to hold himself up with his arms.

He repositioned, leaning heavily into the headboard which creaked from his weight. His arms shook as he held up the weight of his entire body, teeth gritting. He whined in pain as he put pressure on his bad leg, but it wasn't the worse thing he felt. Despite being in so much pain, he didn't give up. He held onto the headboard as tightly as he could. His breathing became heavier the longer he stayed in that position and Ponyboy was worried that he would end up waking his brothers from how loud he was.

After a long time of holding himself in place, he started to be able to able to put more pressure on his leg (although it hurt like a bitch). He slowly moved his leg forward, toes dragging across the carpeted floors. His hands let go of the headboard. It felt like his ankle was weighed down by a ball and chain, but as he took a step, he felt an enormous burst of pride flow through him. But that quickly faded away as his knees buckled again and he came crashing to the ground, unable to reach the headboard in time. His body lurched forward, arms flailing around to grab onto something; anything. His body crashed to the floor, and he cried out in pain as it felt like everything in his body was being crushed again. His breath was knocked out of him, forcing him to gasp out for air. He cursed a variety of profanities in his head that Dally would be impressed.

Footsteps pounded towards him and before he had the time to even lift his head, the door slammed open and his brothers came tumbling in the room.

"Ponyboy!" Darry exclaimed, going to pull him off the ground but as soon as his hands touched, Ponyboy whimpered, rolling himself in a ball despite his ribs protesting. Darry instantly retracted his hands, remembering that Pony didn't like anybody touching him. Through his panic, he totally forgot. Instead of pulling him up, he sighed, crouching down on a knee. He couldn't approach this with "Why are you on the floor? Did you fall off the bed?"

At first, Ponyboy didn't answer, his face was stuffed away. After long moments of Ponyboy's heavy, pained breathing, he shook his head no. The movement was so small that if Darry wasn't focusing so hard on his brother, he wouldn't have noticed it.

"If you didn't roll out of bed, how are you on the floor?" Darry took that moment to look around and saw that they were a step or two away from the bed. He couldn't have fallen out at that distance unless he launched himself off. Unless… "Did you try to walk?"

This time, Ponyboy nodded and Darry sighed again. What's gotten into his brother's head? "You know you can't walk yet. Your bones haven't healed enough," Darry chided and Ponyboy nodded again. Of course, he knew that he wasn't healed enough. He was the one who was in constant pain after all.

"It's three in the morning, what's he even doing up anyways? I thought we put him to bed…" Soda mentioned. Darry looked at the clock. It was indeed three in the morning, making this situation even stranger.

"Why are you still up, buddy?"

But Ponyboy didn't answer this time. He kept his lips shut tight like they were sewed together. They wouldn't be happy if they found out that he never fell asleep in the first place.

"Why isn't he speaking to us?" Soda asked. "He was talking just fine before."

"Ponyboy, what's wrong?" Darry asked but again received nothing.

"You can talk to us."

But Ponyboy was done answering any questions. He just stayed there as still as he could, hoping that his brothers would just leave him alone.

After a while of trying to coax Ponyboy into talking, Soda and Darry understood that he wasn't going to open his mouth anytime soon. They couldn't keep pushing him to answer. It was getting them nowhere. They had to move on.

"I need to carry you back into bed, is that alright?" Ponyboy didn't answer again, as expected, so Darry took that as a green light. He slid his hands under Ponyboy, lifting the curled-up boy to his chest. However, Ponyboy didn't receive that well whatsoever. He instantly uncurled his body, pushing away with both of his hands. Before Darry could tighten his grip, Ponyboy slipped out of his hands, hitting the ground again with a gasp of pain. His rips groans and creaked inside of him.

"Ow…" Soda hissed. That looked like it hurt. "Are you okay?"

Again, Ponyboy didn't reply, going back to rolling up in a ball… but, Darry was having none of it. He was exhausted and just wanted to put him back to bed so he could go back to his own room and fall asleep. He had work early in the morning. "Ponyboy Michael Curtis, let me carry you! Don't be difficult!"

Both of the elder brothers missed Ponyboy's violent flinch. They failed to see how tightly his eyes were shut and didn't catch his trembling fingers. They didn't know what was going inside of Ponyboy's brain at that moment.

He did something bad. He made Darry angry. Acting bad meant being punished. Images flashed in his brain of all the punishments that Vincent did to him when he misbehaved. Ponyboy could feel his eyes start to water as he let out a shaking breath. Was Darry going to do something to him? No. No more. He couldn't take anymore.

' _Please, don't be mad at me,'_ Ponyboy pleaded in his head. He needed to do something to appease Darry.

So, he nodded his head. Hearing the sighs of relief from his brothers made him relax a bit, pleased that he might get out of punishments after all… but he couldn't be sure. Vincent almost always punished him afterward just to warn him of what's to come in the future.

On the other side of the coin, Darry and Soda were relieved that Ponyboy agreed to be picked up, but they were unaware of what they truly did to Ponyboy. They thought he was getting better again, but they were only pushing him further away. Darry picked him up, feeling Ponyboy stiffen in his hold. He feared that he would push away again, but Ponyboy stayed still.

He was gently placed on the bed, the covers draping over him. "Stay in bed this time," Darry ordered.

"Goodnight, Pony," Soda yawned. The two left the room to go back to bed, expecting their brother to fall back asleep. But he didn't. He stayed fully awake and alert, hearing the walls whisper at him. Again, Ponyboy went another night without sleeping.

 **o-o-o**

Days passed and Ponyboy still refused to sleep. Dark bags hung under his eyes, sinking in, making his head like it was just a layer of skin on a skull. It practically was at that point. He hardly ate at all, still trying to get used to eating again. If possible, he looked even worse than he did before he was found. He just looked dead again. His injuries were healing and there was a slight improvement regarding his vision from all of the nutrients being dropped into his eyes. Everything was slow, but they were starting to see a lot of progress. Yet, he only looked sicker.

During the night, Ponyboy still practiced walking, being a lot more careful than the first time. He made sure to grab onto any surface or even hug the wall just to keep him standing. His legs burned; bruises littered across them. Even when he wasn't practicing to walk, everything just hurt.

Pony's knees wobbled as he held himself up one night. In a deep breath, he removed his hands from the headboard, trying his best to hold himself up without any support. He lifted up one of his feet and took a step forward. He held out his hands so that he wouldn't bump into anything, making sure to move slowly just in case something was on the floor just waiting to trip him. As his bad foot touched the floor, a shock of electricity shot up him. He whimpered, biting his lips to mute himself.

He took another step. This time, he couldn't help but let out a small cry as he put his full weight on his bad leg. But he still held himself up.

Another step. How far was the wall again? It couldn't be far. The room wasn't too big to begin with and he already decreased the length in half because of where his bed was situated. But it still felt like the wall was a thousand miles away. Every inch of him was screaming, knees threatening to give out.

When he felt the cool surface of the wall brush against his fingertips. He did it. He really did it. He leaned his head against the wall, wanting to just collapse from how weak he felt. But he still had to get back to his bed. He stumbled back, managing to get back. His knees buckled again and he fell forward back on his bed, thankful that it was there.

His eyes were drooping. The bed was so comfortable. His body wanted to sleep so badly, but he couldn't. He forced himself to stay awake.

 **o-o-o**

It wasn't long until he was given crutches, making it a whole lot easier to get around without being carried. He also could give his bad leg rest from being used. However, he still had to get a lot of assistance to navigate around. Of course, he couldn't get help all the time, meaning he bumped into everything because the gang kept forgetting that he was blind and couldn't feel around well because he was on crutches. One would think that living in a house for their entire life meant that they wouldn't have any trouble navigating through the house with their eyes closed.

Ponyboy practically fell into the seat at the table one morning. A plate was placed in front of him, but he was still in no mood to eat. But… it smelt so good. His mouth watered. He was having an inner war with himself about if he should eat or not. He could feel his stomach twist, reminding him of how hungry he actually was.

Placing his hands on the table after putting his crutches aside, he felt around for any utensils to eat with. But he couldn't feel anything. Ponyboy frowned. He could easily find his plate. Darry sighed from beside him, slipping the silverware into his hands. He felt a fork in his left and a thicker hilted utensil in his right. What was that?

He slid his hand up the utensil, feeling the cold metal become thinner and one edge was ridged. A knife. Ponyboy instantly froze like he was a deer trapped in lights. He went pale, paler than he was originally. His mouth and throat went completely dry. One moment he was in the kitchen, the next thing he knew, he was back in the basement. Blood was covering his hands and the blade. He tried to rub it away, but it only smeared. The feeling of stabbing a knife in flesh and the glassy eyes were still freshly imprinted in his brain.

The knife slipped from his hand, clattering on the floor, snapping him out of his stupor. His hands were shaking, stomach turning so much that he was sure he was going to throw up at any moment.

"Ponyboy?" Soda asked with worry. "Are you alright?"

The voice was so far away that Ponyboy thought he imagined it. His breathing started to become erratic as he pushed himself away from the table, falling onto the ground in a hard crash.

"Ponyboy!"

He crawled away, temporarily forgetting how to use his legs after all that practice. At that moment, he was back to who he was in the basement. He crawled away, head slamming into the cabinet. Ponyboy yelped in pain, head hitting so hard that a cup fell off of the counter, crashing around him. The glass shattered, encircling him. Panicking, Ponyboy tried to move again, using one of his hands to move to the side. As soon as he placed it down, he felt a sharp pain as glass dug into his palm, cutting it like it was made out of paper. Seconds later, he felt his hand become wet and warm, which he assumed was because of his blood.

"Don't move" Darry ordered and Ponyboy froze. He did something bad again, did he? He made a mess again. He closed his eyes, ready to be hit, but was surprised when Darry started to pick up the shards of glass, throwing them in the trash. "Soda, get the first aid kit."

Soda scampered off to the bathroom without missing a beat, soon returning when Darry threw the last shards away.

"Ponyboy, give me your hands. I'm going to patch everything up," Darry instructed. He did what he was told to do, placing his shaking his hands in warm ones. Darry examined them for any cut, sighing in relief when he saw that there was only one. "The cuts aren't deep. We don't have to stitch it up."

Peroxide was poured onto his wound and Ponyboy hissed, tugging at his hands to retract them but couldn't pull free from Darry's grip. New bandages were then wrapped around his hands. "Don't do that again, you hear?" Darry scolded with a growl, causing Ponyboy to flinch. "I don't know what's up with you all of a sudden but you're being a real pain in the neck."

"Darry!" Soda exclaimed in shock.

There was a pang in Ponyboy's heart. Was he really that much of a burden? He was trying his best not to be. Did his brothers even want him there? Did they always see him as a pain? Ponyboy dipped his head in shame. No one wanted him there. Was he really that undesirable?

"What? You have to be starting to feel fed up with him at this point."

There was a pause. "No, of course I don't! I'm not fed up with him at all!" Although his words should have been reassuring, that pause told him otherwise. He whimpered, curling up in a ball. He really was a burden. Even Soda thought so.

"Really? Not even a tiny bit?"

Soda growled. "Darry, can I speak with you somewhere else?"

Darry nodded, leaving their brother to calm himself down in the kitchen. They walked into the living room, speaking quietly so Ponyboy wouldn't hear them.

"What's the madder with you? Why are you so tough on him all of a sudden?" Soda accused.

The eldest dragged his hands through his hair, letting out a huge puff of air. Just being away from the entire mess in the kitchen helped calm him down some. "I'm just getting frustrated that he's not improving. He even reverted back to how he was before!"

The door opened and Two-Bit bounded in. "Hey!" As soon as he took a step in the house, he instantly felt the tension in the air, and he slowed to a stop. The huge smile that was displayed on his lips faltered. "What's going on?"

"Ponyboy just had a freakout… he's acting just like he was before… you know," Soda informed.

Two-Bit nodded in understanding, peaking his head in the kitchen to look at Ponyboy. His heart clenched just looking at the boy rocking back and forth, trying to calm his own breathing.

"How are we supposed to get him to improve if he's just triggered by everything?" Darry asked.

The three thought about it. It was a good question. None of them knew what the kidnapper did to Ponyboy exactly. Anything could be a trigger.

"Maybe… let him outside?" Two-Bit suddenly suggested with a small shrug. The two brothers turned to Two-Bit like he was crazy, bewilderment blown on their faces.

"Excuse me? We can't let him outside," Darry declared.

"Why not? You're trapping him in the house, not letting him breathe fresh air. Isn't that a lot like how it was for him when he was kidnapped? How could he improve if he's constantly reminded about what happened to him?"

Two-Bit was right. Ponyboy was basically a trapped animal in the house. Nothing had really changed since he was rescued.

"He looks terrible… Has he been sleeping or eating?" Two-Bit questioned, taking another look at the skeleton-like boy.

"I sure hope he is…" Soda answered. None of them could be sure. They've seen him eat, but it was only a few bites. They put him to bed, but they never saw him actually fall asleep.

"I don't want to put Ponyboy in danger again," Darry said. His unwavering eyes connected with Two-Bit's. Two-Bit smiled a bit when he realized that Darry was agreeing with him to take Pony outside.

"I'll watch him. Don't worry. I won't take my eyes off of him."

 **o-o-o**

Ponyboy slowly trailed behind Two-Bit in his clutches. It was a lot more frightening being outside than inside since he didn't know where anything was, but Two-Bit made sure to help him get around without any trouble. It felt like they've traveled for an hour, but it was hard to tell when blind. He had no sense of perception and it just seemed like he was walking through a dark tunnel.

Two-Bit didn't want to go too far from the house because it looked like the kid was going to faint any moment. He constantly glanced at him to make sure everything was alright. Ponyboy was sweating something fierce, not used to the exertion and the sun. Maybe they should have put a hat on him to protect his skin from the sun, Two-Bit reckoned.

After many minutes, the two made it to a random gas station. Ponyboy was led to a bench to rest while Two-Bit went inside to grab him something to drink. The boy leaned back, taking a huge breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as gas stations go. It was nice. He'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy being outside.

As he was waiting there, listening to a bunch of people pass by, he heard someone walk up to him. Their footsteps were heavy against the pavement. At first, he thought Two-Bit had returned, but the person leaned forward to him, hot breath blowing onto his ear. "I found you again."

Ponyboy's blood ran cold and he felt his heart stop. Vincent. Vincent was here in front of him. He let his guard down for one moment.

"Don't worry… I'm not going to do anything to you… yet… I have big plans for you. Just remember, you're mine."

Vincent took a step back before walking away. Although his footsteps were fading, it sounded like they were just getting closer. Two-Bit came out of the gas station at that moment with a couple of bottles in his hands.

"So, they didn't have anymore Pepsi in stock, so I just got you water," Two-Bit started before looking up from the bottles to his friend who was frozen, staring ahead of him. "Ponyboy? You alright?"

Ponyboy stiffly shook his head, looking like he was about to throw up. And he did. One moment he was just sitting there and the next thing they knew, he leaned over, covering his hands to his mouth as it was filled with vomit. The little food he had in his stomach tasted nasty on his taste buds.

Two-Bit instantly grabbed a trashcan, placing it down in front of Ponyboy just in time. As soon as he leaned forward, the vomit came spewing out of his mouth into the bin. A hand touched his back, causing him to flinch. But, before he could remove the hand, he threw up again, gagging on his own vomit.

"What happened?" Two-Bit asked after the last bit of vomit left Ponyboy. He held out a water bottle which Ponyboy took gracefully. He drank the water slowly which was hard to do with how much his hands were trembling. When the water was finished, he brought it down, staring straight ahead with eyes that were glossed over. Subconsciously, he started to crush the bottle in his hands. "Come on, please answer. I'm here to help you."

Ponyboy let out shallow breaths, eyes turning to look at Two-Bit with fear. Should he tell him? A part of him wanted him to keep silent, but he had to tell someone. There was no avoiding it this time. He wanted Vincent to get caught before he had the chance to get to him. Ponyboy opened his mouth to talk for the first time in days. His voice was scratchy and shaking so badly that his words were almost incoherent. Finally, he said, "It was him… He was here."

 **o-o-o**

"What happened?" Darry asked when the two returned back. He looked back and forth from Ponyboy's haunted and terrified expression to Two-Bit's panicked one. Ponyboy collapsed on the couch, rolling back in a ball and mumbling words none of them could understand.

"I took Ponyboy to the gas station and went in to get him a bottle of water while he sat down to rest. I swear, I only left for a minute, but he was there, Darry. Ponyboy's kidnapper was there."

Everybody's blood ran cold.

"Oh my god," Soda cried out, hands covering his mouth.

"Did he do anything to him?" Darry asked, motioning to his brother.

Two-Bit shook his head. "He's fine. Nothing happened. I think he just heard him, is all."

Darry spun to Ponyboy at that moment. "You have to tell us who it is, Ponyboy. Please, just tell us. We can find him and put him away. All we need is a name."

Ponyboy remained silent, only shaking his head. Just saying that he saw Vincent was hard enough, now he had to provide a name? He dug his face into his knees. It felt like Vincent was right behind him, holding a knife against his throat. He wanted to tell, he really did, but it was like something was clogging his throat. What f they couldn't catch him in time? Vincent would kill him for sure. No… he would make him watch the gang die before he would be killed. He couldn't risk that.

But… what's stopping him from doing that anyway? What did Vincent mean when he said that he had 'big plans' for him? Whatever it was, Ponyboy didn't want to find out. He had to do something and ignore how scared he was.

Just as they were going to give up, Ponyboy spoke up. "Vincent. His name is Vincent."

"What?" Dally's voice rang up. They looked to the door and saw Dally there with wide eyes. However, his shock quickly turned to anger. His hands curled into fists and he gritted his teeth. "Vincent did this?"


	15. The Right to Remain Silent

Everyone was staring at Dally with different expressions. At first, none of them knew exactly how to react to the new information that was given them in just a few measly words. They didn't even know if it was good information or bad. Good because Dally knew where Vincent probably was, and he knew what he looked like. Bad because it meant that Vincent knew more about them than they thought and that Ponyboy's kidnapping wasn't random. It was planned through and through.

Darry was the first to break the silence. "You know…" he slowly said, mouth suddenly dry. "You know who Ponyboy was talking about? You know who this Vincent person is?"

"I know _someone_ named Vincent," Dally growled, crossing his arms to better his how close he was from exploding.

"So, you're not sure…" Soda restated.

Knitting his eyebrows together, Dally thought more about it. The Vincent he knew was charismatic and slightly annoying with how friendly he was. It just didn't seem like he would kidnap someone. In fact, if Dally had to rate him on a list of who was 'Most Likely a Murderer', Vincent would be placed near the end; close to Johnny's name. He just seemed like he was friends with everyone. That's when the realization hit Dally. He only seemed like he was friends with everyone, but he wasn't. He thought he was friends with Ponyboy… which was weird now that he thought about it. There was no way Vincent could have known Ponyboy before he was kidnapped. They lived in way too different worlds. So different that they never should have collided on the street. And yet, Vincent told him that he wanted to pay respects to Ponyboy in the hospital.

"No… I'm sure it's the Vincent that I'm thinking about." Dally suddenly slammed his fist against the wall. "That son of a bitch! I'm going fucking kill him!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Darry tried to sooth, holding up his hands. "Explain this further. How do you know it's him?"

Dally's glare turned to Darry, but it wasn't directed at him. Darry knew that. "Vincent asked me what hospital Ponyboy was in so that he could go and visit him. I thought he was a friend… He said he knew the kid… So, I told him what hospital he was in."

And, just like with Dally, the realization hit them like a bulldozer. "So, the whole arsenic poisoning…" Soda started, gasping. His eyes widened as he remembered his brother's doubled over body that was throwing up blood.

"Was this Vincent," Darry finished Soda's sentence, swallowing thickly. He wasn't as shocked as the others in the house. No. Instead, he was furious. It was his turn to glare at Darry with his piercingly icy eyes. He grabbed ahold of Dally's shirt, pulling him further in the house so that he could slam him against the wall. "You told him, the person who tortured my brother, where he was?"

"Darry!" Soda protested, going over to pull Darry back but his hands were knocked off.

"I didn't know, man!" Dally tried to explain but rationality had completely left Darry at that point.

"Dally, he almost died because of what you did! Because of _you_!"

"I didn't know!"

"Darry, he didn't know that Vincent was the kidnapper at that point!" Soda defended. "Look, what happened was terrifying and horrible, but Dally wouldn't have told him anything if he knew who he was exactly. Beating him up won't change anything."

"He's right, Darry," Two-Bit piped up. "Just let Dally go."

"He… Vincent hated Dally…" Ponyboy suddenly murmured as he rocked back and forth on the sofa. His words were soft, almost inaudible, but they all heard it. "He had something against him. He wanted to see him suffer."

The four other people in the house froze, staring at Ponyboy as they realized what that meant. Again, Darry slammed Dally's body against the wall. If it was possible, he was even angrier. "You were the reason why Ponyboy was kidnapped! It was all you to begin with!"

"I don't know what I did to make him hate me!" Dally tried to justify.

"Ponyboy, what did Dally do?" Darry turned his head to Ponyboy again, tightening his grip on Dally's shirt. But Ponyboy only shook his head with a whimper, digging his head deeper into his legs. Darry snapped his head back to Dally. "I'm going to give you a few seconds to give me a reason for me to not hurt you."

But Dally couldn't. He didn't know what to say. Seconds went by with Dally not saying anything and he had enough. Darry raised his fist in the air.

"Darry, don't!" Soda screamed, jumping onto Darry's arm to prevent him from shooting his fist forward. "Please, you're scaring us."

The two brothers stared into each other's eyes. Soda's eyes were filled to the brim with fear and worry, which Darry didn't get. Why wasn't Soda angry at Dally?

"I'm angry at Dally too, but you don't have to do this," Soda answered as if he read his mind.

Dally let out a deep breath, turned back to Dally. He shoved him against the wall one last time before letting go. He pointed his finger, which shook from how angry he was, to the door. "Get out!"

"Darry—" Dally started.

"Get out of this house! I can't stand to look you in the face right now!"

The two had a stand-off, none of them moving from their spots for many moments. Dally growled, before finally taking the message. He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him, causing Ponyboy to flinch.

Dally was beyond enraged. So much so that he felt numb. He had to do something. He had to get rid of steam… and he knew how to do that. He was going to find Vincent and he was going to make him wish that he was never born.

Soda and Two-Bit stared out the window, watching Dally's body become smaller the further he walked. "He's going after Vincent," Two-Bit pointed out.

"Yeah, he is," Soda agreed, turning away to turn his attention back to Darry who had his forehead against the wall to help calm him down. He breathed heavily, back slowly lifting up again down. The house fell into silence after Dally left.

Ponyboy still hadn't moved. Inside, he was suffering. He caused this. He caused the gang to split apart. He shouldn't have told them anything. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault. He dug his fingers into his new cut, holding back a hiss from the sting. He could feel his eyes watering. Dally probably hated him. The gang probably hated him, or they will, when they learn that Dally left because of him. Now Dally was going to go after Vincent. Ponyboy was going to be the cause of his death. Vincent's going to kill him because of his screw up.

"Dally's going to die…" Ponyboy mumbled. He shouldn't have opened his mouth after what he just did. He silently cursed himself.

"What do you mean?" Soda asked.

"Vincent's dangerous… He shouldn't have gone after him."

"I'm sure Dally will be fine," Darry grumbled.

"Yeah, Dally's tough," Two-Bit said.

Ponyboy shook his head, wiping the tears on his pants. He hugged himself tighter. It was his fault. It was his fault!

 _Murderer! Murderer!_

"Dally doesn't stand a chance." Vincent knew how to kill. He was clever. He always knew what he was doing and always seems to know what people are going to do before they do it. On the other hand, Dally never took a life before. He brain was clouded by his rage and he threw away all rational thinking. Vincent probably already knew that Dally was coming. As long as Vincent has a beating heart, Dally will die.

The three other greasers looked at each other with uneasiness. All their residing anger washed away at his words, soon being replaced with worry. Even though Dally did something wrong, it doesn't change the fact that he was their friend.

"I'm going to call the police," Darry declared.

"What do you want us to do?" Soda asked.

"Stay here and watch over Ponyboy. Make sure he stays safe."

They nodded as Darry dialed the number. In moments, someone picked up. "Hello, 911, what is your emergency?"

 **o-o-o**

Where was he? Where was that son of a bitch?

Dally scavenged throughout Tulsa for Vincent. It didn't take too long for him to find the man at a bar.

"Vincent, you piece of shit!" Dally screamed when he saw the man sitting on a bar stool. He stomped over to him. Other patrons in the bar quieted down their chatter, moving out of the way when they sensed Dally's murderous aura.

Vincent turned around, looking confused. "What?" he asked, playing innocent. However, the innocent façade only made Dally angrier. He slammed his fist against the counter, getting up close to him.

"Is there a problem?" the bartender asked, stepping up to the duo.

"None at all," Dally sneered. "Vincent, outside, now."

With a sigh, Vincent stood up, placing some money on the counter before following Dally outside and to the side of the bar. As soon as they arrived at the side of the building, Dally slammed Vincent against the wall, similar to what Darry did to him minutes before.

"I know that you were the one who took the kid," Dally growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Vincent dodged.

"Don't fucking like, man! He told us you did it!"

And just like that, Dally watched as the expression practically washed off of Vincent's face. It was like he took off a mask right before him. Vincent's eyes turned from being filled with mock fear to abysses. They were completely void of any emotion; totally blank like a dead person. "He told you, did he?" His voice was low and had a dangerous tone to it like a viper. It almost made Dally (the Dally) shiver. _Almost_.

He quickly got a hold of himself, remembering why he was there in the first place. Dally slammed Vincent against the wall again. He leaned up close, hissing in Vincent's ear. "I'm going to make you wish you were never born."

"I'll like to see you try." Vincent spat in Dally's face, causing the male to reel back slightly, shutting his eyes to prevent it from going into his eyes. The spit glistened against the sunlight, slowly dribbling down his cheeks. For a moment, Dally just stood there. He took a deep sigh, using his other hand to wipe the spit away.

"You're fucked." He brought back his fist before bringing it forward with all of his might. His knuckles collided with Vincent's nose; a loud crack sounded soon after. Dally could feel the bone snap and he never felt anything so satisfying. Blood sputtered out of Vincent's nose as he yelled out in pain. Vincent tried to cover up his nose by Dally didn't give him enough time.

Before he could do anything, Dally slugged him again. This time it was to the jaw, sending him flying to the ground. Vincent gasped in pain, but, when he looked up at Dally only mere seconds later, his face didn't show any pain. His expression remained stoic and unwavering.

There was so much blood covering his face, getting into every crevice in his skin. His nose was crooked, so much so that a normal person would have cringed upon seeing it. "Is that all you got?" he teased with a fake, wide smile that stretched from one ear to the other. His teeth were covered in his blood, gathering darkly in-between them. However, no light reached his eyes. It sort of reminded Dally of a clown.

Dally snarled, stomping over to Vincent. He pinned the male down, sitting on his stomach. He brought his fist back again before snapping it forward. As soon as he made a clean hit, he retracted his hand and repeated this over and over. Blood splattered everywhere, especially on his fist. Vincent looked like hell, but he didn't stop until he heard an empty, fake laugh.

He stopped his punch midway. "Why the fuck are you laughing?"

"You were cast out, weren't you?" Vincent asked. Dally could feel a shiver run up his spine. How did know that? "I can tell. You're in so much pain. I feel it. I feel it! It's so nice!"

"You're insane."

"But, I'm right, aren't you? They threw you away. You considered them your family and they just tossed you aside when they found out how much of a faulty toy you actually were."

"Shut up!"

"You act tough, but you're so broken and fragile on the inside. I don't know why I was so hesitant when it came to getting rid of you. You're weak."

"I said shut up!" Dally punched Vincent against before reaching in his back pocket, pulling out his switch-blade. He flipped out the blade, pressing it against Vincent's throat. The blade cut through his skin just enough for a small trickle of blood. It exited the small cut, dribbling down his throat, mixing with his sweat along the way. His hands shook as he held the blade, something Vincent noted.

"What are you going to do now? Kill me? You don't have the guts. You've never taken a life before. You're scared to. Let me show you how to use a knife."

"Like hell I would—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Vincent carefully flipped them over so that he was on top. The movement surprised Dally enough for Vincent to easily disarm him. Before he knew exactly what happened, their positions were swapped, and Vincent was the one holding the knife to his throat.

Then, Vincent just removed the knife. Dally watched as he brought the knife to his skin. He slid the blade across—not deep enough to need stitches but deep enough to leave a scar. He did this on a few other places, biting his lips to mute his pained moans.

"What are you doing?" Dally gasped.

"You'll see. Not today or tomorrow, but you'll see why I'm doing this one day," Vincent answered. He brought the blade to another park of his skin and froze. At first, Dally thought he was going to cut again.

Suddenly, Vincent flipped the switch-blade around, stabbing Dally in the side. The blade ripped through his muscles and tendons in a split second. An electric shock ran through his body and he couldn't help but let out a pained gasp. After feeling the shock, all Dally could feel was the blade inside of him and that on his clothes, there was a warm wet patch. All that was running through his brain was the fact that he was stabbed and that he should remove the knife. Then there was a searing heat as if his body was being burned by hot metal.

He should be in more pain than this, but there was so much adrenaline running through his body that he felt almost numb. His hands were shaking as he moved his hands to pull the knife out, but Vincent twisted it, halting his movement. He cried out. He definitely felt that.

"If I were to stab you right here…" Vincent started, tapping a spot on Dally's torso that he could barely feel. "You would have died in moments, right here and now. Hell, even if I were to remove the knife from you, the blood loss could kill you."

There was another twist Dally gritted his teeth. "Why don't you kill me right here, right now?"

"Because I want you to suffer more." Vincent's voice lowered to become almost like a growl. His eyes narrowed. "I've learned that stretching out the suffering is a lot more satisfying than just killing someone… Ponyboy taught me that. "You know… You care a lot more about that boy than you would like to admit."

"Fuck you." Dally sputtered out blood. It trailed down his chin, dropping into the pool of blood that was slowly being formed under him. Even though there would have been a lot more blood if the knife had been removed, there was still a mind-numbing amount. There was so much blood. So much. "What have I ever done to you?"

"You got in my way."

"Got in…" He gasped as the blade was twisted once again. "Got in the way of what?"

Sirens could be heard nearby, getting closer. Dally never felt more relieved to hear sirens in his life. The gang, or maybe even the bartender, must have called the police for him. They were going to put Vincent behind bars (Dally would have preferred something more permanent) where he belonged. However, one look at Vincent and he knew that he was expecting the police to come.

A creepy smile had formed on his lips, eyes still empty like a dead person. Blood filled the cracks between his teeth, causing the smile to become even more chilling. But the smile only lasted a few moments. It fell off as soon as the police cars pulled into the street at the end of the alleyway. In a split second, policemen filed out of the car, clad in bulletproof vests. Some of them ducked behind their car's doors while others stood out in the open. All of them pulled out their guns, pointed them at the two. Most of them though were trained on Vincent.

"Hands up! Hands up, right now!" one of them screamed with such a powerful voice that it would make almost anyone throw up in fear.

Vincent followed his instructions, coolly putting his hands up in the air. He stayed completely calm as the policeman warily approached him. As soon as the policeman got to him, Vincent was slammed into the ground. His arms were roughly twisted behind his back before handcuffs were snapped around his wrists. "You are under arrest for both kidnapping and homicide. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you. Do you understand the rights I have just said to you?"

Vincent nodded. He repositioned his face on the ground so that a sharp pebble wouldn't be digging into his cheek. "I do."

"With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"No."

With that, the policeman stood up, pulling Vincent up from the floor. He roughly shoved him towards his vehicle.

"You're done. You're fucking done," another policeman hissed, stepping out from behind his car. Vincent ignored him, sitting down in the backseat. Then the door was slammed shut. At first, Dally thought that was it. That it was over, and he would never see Vincent ever again. But Vincent leaned forward, staring out through the window at Dally who was looking back at him. Vincent smiled that creepy, empty smile again, causing Dally to shiver.

The car started up and drove away, but, even though he was gone, Dally still felt Vincent's dull eyes on him.

"I need paramedics, stat!" one of the policemen yelled in a walkie-talkie. He turned back to Dally, crouching down. "Are you alright, son?"

For a moment, Dally didn't know what the policeman was going on about. Then he remembered that his switch-blade was still being used as a cork to keep his blood in his body. Dally glowered. "Does it look like I'm fucking okay? I have a knife in my side!"

The policeman reeled back a bit in surprise but quickly regained composure. He must have been new, Dally reckoned. "An ambulance is coming to take you to a hospital. You're going to be alright."


	16. His Statement

**I'm so sorry again! I've been so busy and never had a chance to write. Even now, I'm still bombarded with classes. I will try to update next week and get back onto schedule, but I do have finals to do. So, I'm sorry in advance if I take another week off.**

 **This chapter was really slap-job in my opinion. I don't really like it but it's either this or not getting a chapter for like another week or two.**

 **o-o-o**

The ride to the hospital was tense. They were given a call a few minutes ago, telling them that Dally was getting medical attention. Ponyboy was curled up in the corner of Darry's truck as the vehicle sped to the hospital, but it seemed like everything was going in slow motion for him. His hands were balled into fists, fingernails were digging into his palms.

He caused this to happen. It was his fault, all his fault.

He knew that Vincent would rise on top and, yet, he didn't do anything to stop Dally from facing him. Vincent was too strong. He was too unpredictable and clever to be taken down. And now, Dally was hurt because of it and he was almost killed. It was all his fault!

The gang was constantly looking over at him, sensing his distress. They didn't do anything though. Ponyboy was relieved that they didn't do anything. He probably would have fallen apart if even just spoken to. The truck was in absolute silence until they reached the hospital.

It wasn't hard to find Dally's room and it definitely wasn't that difficult to sneak everybody in. Dally was sprawled on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his torso. He glanced over when the gang entered with an almost bored expression. He nodded his head in a silent greeting.

"How're you doing?" Darry asked him when they closed the door behind them.

"I just want out, man. This place gives me the creeps," Dally snarked. He glanced over to Ponyboy who was as far away as he could be, head dipped in shame. Dally jerked his head to Ponyboy. "How's the kid doing?"

The gang glanced at Ponyboy again, who only retreated back into himself more.

"I think he's guilty about what happened to you. He's not speaking or anything," Soda replied sadly.

"I see…" Dally glanced downwards for a moment before turning his full attention to Ponyboy. "Hey, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy flinched. His head lifted a bit, but he kept his mouth shut.

"This stab wound isn't your fault, you dig?" Dally continued. "Don't go blaming yourself over my actions. It ended up being worth it anyway."

"What happened to him?" Darry asked curiously.

"The fuzz showed up; put him in handcuffs. It's all over now. He won't be bothering anyone any longer."

The gang all let out a huge sigh of relief. Ponyboy, however, just stood there, feeling like something was very wrong with that statement. Vincent wouldn't have been caught without a purpose. He was way too clever to be caught just like that. It couldn't just be over. It was never going to be over. Vincent was always going to be there. He was always going to be a few steps ahead of everyone, just waiting to rip the rug from out under. He had a plan and Ponyboy was sure that he was going to find out what it was soon. It was going to be a plan that not only hurts him but everyone he cares about as well.

 **o-o-o**

Ponyboy was sitting around on the couch at home when there was a knock on the door. Darry, being the closest, opened it and faltered when he saw a policeman. His arms were placed on his hips and his stance was wide to show assertiveness over the Curtis brothers.

"Can I help you, officer?" Darry asked, catching the attention of both Soda and Ponyboy.

"The police? What are they doing here?" Soda asked, peaking his head out from the kitchen. His eyebrows knitted together with worry.

"Vincent Cox has recently been arrested," the policeman informed like they didn't hear the news. "There will be a trial that will be held soon. Ponyboy needs to be there to defend himself."

Darry was aghasted. "Court? Defend himself? Vincent's guilty! There's no need for a court!" he objected. "Why can't you just put him in prison?"

"He called upon him six amendment rights. We must give him a fair and speedy trial."

"But—"

"Sir, Ponyboy Curtis must appear in court when it is called. You cannot object this… unless… Vincent Cox isn't guilty at all?"

Soda and Darry couldn't believe what they were hearing. It was obvious that Vincent did it. Ponyboy wasn't surprised at all. "Ponyboy said that it was him."

"Vincent has his rights just like you or me, and many people are convicted of crimes that they are innocent of. For all we know, he might be the wrong Vincent or someone using the name as an alias."

"It's him though. Vincent Cox is guilty."

"Then there isn't any need to worry at all."

Darry growled, crossing his arms. He glared at the policemen with his icy gaze until Ponyboy spoke up. "Darry… It's fine." It was quiet and soft, but it snapped Darry out of his phase. He took a deep sigh to calm himself. "Did you come here for something else?"

The policeman nodded. "I came by to ask him about what had happened down in the basement to get his statement," he answered and Ponyboy frowned. Of course, it was that. The one thing that he didn't want to do: remember what he went through… at least, more than he already did. Speaking about it meant reliving every moment. He clenched his jaw and tried to sink into the couch to disappear.

Darry looked at Ponyboy before looking back to the police officer. "Well, Ponyboy? What do you want to do?"

Ponyboy shook his head. He didn't want to. He didn't want to tell anyone anything. They would probably think he was pathetic or disgusting. Hell, the probably wouldn't believe him. He did go through a lot, after all. His word would seem too ridiculous to be real. Plus, what was his word—the word of a blind kid—worth against the charismatic Vincent? That's what Ponyboy realized something.

So, that was it. That is where Vincent would slip pass everyone and escape. Ponyboy knew it. He knew that something was up when Vincent was captured. Knowing him, he was probably going to do something that would turn everything against him. If that was the case, then they were going to need a really good lawyer. And that would mean that he couldn't speak to the police or else he might accidentally incriminate himself.

 _Murderer. Killer!_

Ponyboy squeezed his eyes shut. He was guilty too. He deserved to be locked up as well, but he didn't want to go to prison. Who would? The image of the corpse flashed through his head and he felt his stomach turn. He felt like he was going to vomit. "I want a lawyer…" he murmured, shocking everyone.

"Why? You're innocent, right?" the policeman rudely pushed.

Darry quickly snapped out of his surprise, realizing why Ponyboy said that. He knew that Ponyboy was worried that his information would be turned against him. He crossed his arms and shook his head, turning to the policeman. He said with a stern voice, "No. No, we're not talking to you."

"Sir—"

"If he has to go to court, then we're not talking to you. We don't have to talk. We have the right to remain silent… it's out fifth amendment if you're pulling that on us."

"Usually, people are guilty of something when they refuse to speak."

"There's nothing to be guilty of. We want a lawyer. Get us an attorney."

 **o-o-o**

It took a bit of time, but eventually, there was another knock on the door. The policeman had left a while ago. Soda opened the door, seeing that an older man that was clad in a suit was on the other side.

"Hello," Soda greeted.

"Hello, my name is Allen Duke. I'm the defense attorney that was assigned to Ponyboy Curtis's case," the man introduced with a raspy voice.

"Oh, come on in." Soda stepped to the side, letting the lawyer step inside the house. Right when Allen entered, his eyes instantly zoomed onto the blind boy.

"You must me Ponyboy, correct?"

Ponyboy nodded as Allen sat down. At that moment, Darry came out of his room, seeing the lawyer. "Hello, I'm Darrel Curtis, Ponyboy's eldest brother. Are you the lawyer?"

"Yes. I came to get to know the situation better. I need to know Ponyboy's full story to help me with the case. Ponyboy, I need you to explain everything, every detail, of what happened. Please don't leave anything out. There isn't really any evidence to your case so we're going to have to use the heart of the jury to win. So, with that said, go ahead."

Ponyboy felt like he was frozen. Even though he was expecting this, he was not prepared to talk. His hands were shaking again, and he was sure that feeling of fear was unhealthy to feel multiple times a day. He could still the ropes digging into his wrists and could still feel his hand being peeled.

"Come on, Ponyboy, you can do it," Soda soothed, but it didn't help one bit. It only made it worse. His brothers were all super supportive, but he knew that they wouldn't be after they heard everything that went down in the basement.

He couldn't do it. It felt like he was going to throw up. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to grasp them to try to hide how terrified he actually was. But everyone in the room knew better. They knew that this was going to be one of the most difficult things for him to be able to do.

"Take a deep breath and start from the beginning." The beginning? That felt like eons ago. Those memories felt foggy to him. It was hard to remember what exactly happened. It all happened so fast. He remembered what he felt though. He remembered being so terrified that he was surprised that the stress didn't turn his hair white.

"I know that you're terrified. It must be hard to talk about it… but you have to. Vincent will probably be let go if we don't get your story," the lawyer explained. Ponyboy knew that. But, even then, he couldn't do it. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and his breathing started to become erratic. His fingers dug into his hair, tugging it slightly. He opened his mouth, but only shuttering air came out. His eyes were shut so tightly, replaying his memories of when he was taken. Every single time he closes his eyes, he would see snippets of them. It wasn't too hard to remember every torture method that happened to him. No. He could remember them like it was yesterday. But, thinking about the entire experience altogether just mixed together.

But even if he couldn't speak about it, he had to do it. He had to. He repeated that sentence over and over in his head to motivate himself; revving himself up. "Um…" Ponyboy's mouth felt dryer than the desert. and it felt like there was a frog in his throat. His body was sweating something fierce and it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest with how hard it was hammering away. "It… It…"

"It?"

Ponyboy shook his head, full on bawling now. "I can't do it. I'm sorry. I can't. I don't want to talk to you."

"Easy now. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning."

Ponyboy wiped away the tears that started to fall from his eyes. He whimpered, breaking his brothers' heart again. They hated seeing their brother in so much distress and pain. They couldn't imagine what it would be like in his shoes. "It… er… It started when I was running with the track team. Every once in a while, we get to run outside the school to the gas station nearby. It's nice… you know? To not have to see the same scenery with every lap."

"Right… but don't sidetrack from the story."

The boy flinched at the command, going unnoticed by everyone. He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. He's got this. He can do it. "We were there at the gas station and I was taking a break, leaning against the wall. There wasn't much shade and the fan was broken inside the station. It was cooler outside. So, I was taking a breather. I was about to jog back to school when I heard something."

"What did you hear?"

"Er… Someone going 'psst' to me. I thought it was a car or something at first… I ignored it, but then it happened again. I remember looking and seeing nothing, so I tried to leave the gas station again, but then there was a sharp pain in my neck, and everything went black. I don't… I don't remember what happened next. I, um… I think I passed out, because, the next thing I knew, I was in the basement."

"What exactly did he do to you?"

That was the part that Ponyboy definitely did not want to remember. Someone touched his shaking hands and he ripped them away in a panic. Flashes of everything that happened hit him like a volley of arrows. His breathing was getting worse; more sporadic. His head got light as he wasn't able to capture enough oxygen to sustain himself. It felt like he was drowning in the deepest part of the ocean. Ponyboy dug his face in his wrists to try to calm himself down, but it hardly did anything.

No one in the room knew what to do. They wanted to comfort the boy and hug him better. But they couldn't touch him. They could only try to help him with words, but it was like their voices weren't reaching him at all, bouncing off of some invisible wall.

"It's alright, Ponyboy. Everything's going to be alright. No one's going to hurt you," Soda soothed helplessly.

"I know it's hard to remember, but please, tell me," the lawyer pleaded, earning hard glares from Soda and Darry for putting the case above Ponyboy's wellbeing.

"H-He…" Ponyboy's voice was trembling, so much so that he could hardly make out what he was saying. "H-He. I'm sorry. I-I-I can't. I can't do it. I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sor—"

"It's okay," the lawyer interrupted causing Ponyboy to choke on his voice. "Just nod or shake your head, okay? I'll list a few things."

Ponyboy nodded, feeling a little bit relieved. Emphasis on a 'little'. He whipped away more tears, feeling his throat burn with how much strain it was under.

"Did he beat you with his limbs?"

Ponyboy nodded.

"How about with weapons like crowbars or baseball bats?"

Another nod.

"Has he tried to kill you?"

He thought about this question for a bit. Although it seemed like he was trying to with how close Ponyboy got to dying, he didn't think Vincent was trying to kill him. He was more into tormenting him, finding pleasure in doing so. He did threaten him many times and Ponyboy was sure that if he wasn't careful, Vincent would have killed him without a second thought. But, still. For the most part, Vincent wanted him alive. He shook his head. "He just wanted to torture me."

"He was the person who blinded you, correct?"

"Ye-Yeah…"

"Can I ask how he did that?"

"He… He held heated-up metal in front of my eyes." Ponyboy's hand touched the scars around his eyes, feeling the roughness of his skin. The feeling of the heat burning him came back, only a bit weaker. Ponyboy could still remember the exact moment where his vision switched off. It was crazy to think that your sight could just be gone in an instant when it was working perfectly fine before.

"How did he break your ankle?"

"A sledgehammer…"

The questions went like that for an hour. His brothers were listening intensely to him. He didn't mention anything about being raped or the person he was forced to kill. Anything but those topics. He even talked about how he was forced to eat his own vomit, to the disgust of everyone in the room.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the last questions came. "Is there anything that he did to you that you didn't mention?" Allen asked.

Yes, but Ponyboy couldn't talk about it. Under no circumstances tell them about it. They would be disgusted with him, even more than they do now. They would be scared of him; see him as a monster… a killer. Would the lawyer even want to work with him if he found out that he had blood on his hands? He had to defend him… right? He didn't have a choice, Ponyboy didn't think.

"Tell me, please," the lawyer urged. "Lack of information could turn against you in court. You could end up losing if you don't tell me everything."

Ponyboy bit his lips, curling more in a ball. He shook his head, knowing that they knew that he was lying; that there was more information left to be said.

"Ponyboy, you have to tell me everything so that Vincent could go behind bars for good. If you're hiding something, it has to be something big, a game-changer. What did he do to you?"

"He…" Ponyboy started, throat so tight that it felt like he was being strangled. A part of him wished that he could see everyone's faces, but it was better that he didn't. He didn't want to see their disgusted looks on their faces. He took a deep breath and said in a quick and quiet voice, "He… He raped me."


	17. One Step at a Time

In just a few words the house turned ice cold. Nobody was moving and everybody was staring at Ponyboy (minus the attorney) with wide eyes. Darry and Soda couldn't believe what they just heard. They didn't want to believe it. How could that even happen to their brother? It wasn't supposed to happen to him. Not Ponyboy. It didn't seem real at all. But, then again, him being kidnapped didn't seem real either.

Darry and Soda both didn't know what to feel. Their emotions and thoughts were all scrambled, moving at a million miles per hour. In the beginning, they were shocked, but that quickly shifted to disgust; then to sadness. Finally, it landed to anger. Both of the brothers were seething with rage, hands shaking with how tightly they were being clenched. They saw red and all they wanted to do at that moment was to teach Vincent a lesson that he would never forget.

A whimper escaped Ponyboy's mouth, snapping them back to reality. Sadness and concern once again washed over them.

"Oh, Pony…" Soda began, wanting to scoop Ponyboy in his arms, but he didn't because he couldn't. He felt absolutely useless, unable to anything to help him.

Ponyboy curled himself up in a little ball, trying to make himself as small as possible as if he was trying to disappear. He was sobbing loudly, hiccupping as a child would.

"Is there anything else that happened?" the lawyer asked, like everything he heard was normal. Soda and Darry shot him another glare. How could the attorney act so blasé about the situation? It was so messed up! He should have at least waited a while for everything to calm down again!

Ponyboy flinched as he choked on a sob. He fell silent, holding in everything. But that only lasted a few seconds before he started full on crying again. He shook his head. "No," he choked out. He couldn't tell them anything else. He would rather take his secret to the grave.

The lawyer looked skeptically at him, narrowing his eyes. "Are you sure? I need to know everything."

"There's nothing else…" Ponyboy could feel the attorney frown, scrutinizing him with calculating eyes. He shifted in his seat, hugging himself even more tightly.

"Fine. I'm going to take my leave now. If anything else comes up, please contact me. I will try my best to win this case." He handed Darry his business card before letting himself out of the house.

"Ponyboy…" Soda started right after the front door closed. "Are you… Are you okay?"

If he was in the right mind, Ponyboy would have shot back a snappy remark. Instead, he shook his head, voice shaking awfully bad. "No."

There was an awkward silence between the three of them and, if possible, Ponyboy shrank back even further. He wondered what his brothers were thinking about. Oh, Christ, they probably were so disgusted with him. He was dirty. Disgusting. Defiled. They probably hated him and wanted to scrub away at their hands from all the times that they interacted with him. Ponyboy didn't blame them. He wanted to scrub away at his skin until he reached flesh. Maybe then he wouldn't feel as disgusting, and, maybe then, he wouldn't feel Vincent's hands running all over his body. But, even if he did scrub off all of his skin, would it even be enough?

No… it wouldn't. The scrubbing wouldn't change the fact that he was raped. It wouldn't clean the wretched memories from his mind. It wouldn't help him from feeling Vincent inside of him, making his feel like it was being ripped apart. And, most of all, it wouldn't get rid of the shame he felt when his body reacted to what was happening to him even though he didn't want it at all.

 _Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting!_

"Ponyboy," Darry's voice suddenly said. It was soft, but, in the silence, it sounded like he was raising his voice at him. "Stop that."

Stop what? Ponyboy lightly scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. As if he knew what Ponyboy was thinking, Darry clarified, "Stop scratching your arms."

Ponyboy's hand froze. He didn't know that they were moving, let alone scratching away at his skin. As soon as he stopped scratching it raw, his skin felt like it was burning. He hissed, but the pain was bearable compared to what he felt before.

"Sorry…" he apologized, causing his brothers to look at him curiously. What was Ponyboy sorry about?

"Sorry about what? You didn't do anything wrong," Soda tried.

The boy only shook his head. "For being disgusting. I know I'm gross, and you think so too, so—"

"Stop," Soda interrupted, feeling a pit in his stomach. Did Ponyboy really think that they thought he was disgusting? "You're not gross. We don't think that at all. Vincent is the one that's disgusting."

"Vincent's despicable. He deserves to be locked up," Darry continued.

But Ponyboy didn't believe their words. He shook his head, shooting up from the sofa. He grabbed his crutches. "No, you're just saying that! I'm disgusting and we all know it. So, stop saying that… because it hurts to hear you lie to me."

"Ponyboy! We don't—" Darry didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before Ponyboy left the living room to his bedroom as fast as he could in his crutches. He refused to believe what they were saying, even though he wanted to. Hope never fared well with him. It always ended up pulling the rug out from under him. "Hey!"

The door closed ad Darry went to chase after him, but Soda held him back, shaking his head. "He needs his time. I don't think he wants anyone right now."

"But—"

"I want to go in too… but I think we all need to take a bit of time to absorb everything. We'll talk to him later."

Darry sighed, knowing that Soda was right. He was almost always right when it came to Ponyboy's needs and wants. He nodded, taking another look down the hallway. "Yeah, we will later."

 **o-o-o**

Ponyboy couldn't sleep that night, just like all the other nights. It didn't get easier to fall asleep. It was hard to stay awake most of the time, but he had enough anxiety and adrenaline pumping through his veins to keep him running.

He had to keep moving. He couldn't stop. Ponyboy feared that if he were to stop, Vincent will do something. He didn't know where he was. They said Vincent was in jail, but what if he got away? What if he was waiting for Ponyboy to fall asleep to get him?

The door opened to his room. "Ponyboy? You're awake?" Soda's voice rang out.

Ponyboy jumped a bit before he looked up towards the voice. "I can't sleep," he replied, feeling the bed dip beside him.

"It doesn't seem like you've been sleeping at all…" Soda examined Ponyboy closer, catching him flinch at his observation. That's when he realized something. "You… haven't been sleeping? Why?"

"I don't feel tired."

Soda huffed. "You and I both know that that's not true."

Again, Ponyboy flinched. He dipped his head, picking at the bandage around his hand. "I…" He choked up. He was really turning into a whiny bitch lately.

"What is it? You can tell me."

"I just… What if something happens while I'm asleep? What if he…" Ponyboy didn't want to think about it. He knew Vincent enough to know that he will always find a way back to him. He just didn't know when or how.

"Oh, Pony…" Soda soothed. "He's not going to get you. He's going to be put away for good. With everything he did, he will never be let go."

But Ponyboy knew that wasn't true. Vincent wouldn't just be caught like that. "He will. He's going to get me again. I can't take anymore. I'd rather… I'd rather—" Ponyboy choked up again. He'd rather die. But he couldn't admit that to Soda. He already caused so much trouble. He didn't want them to worry anymore about him than they already did.

"He's not going to get you. I'll… We'll all make sure of that. He won't touch a hair off of your head. Okay?"

Nodding his head, Ponyboy shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He absorbed what Soda was reassuring him of. Although he knew that it wasn't true, it helped him relax a bit. An infinitesimal bit, but significant. He wanted to believe that the gang would always protect him, but they couldn't always be there for him. Vincent knew that. Ponyboy knew that Vincent knew that. Besides, even if they somehow always were with him, one of them wasn't enough to go against Vincent. Hell, two might not even be enough to take him down.

"Okay… Yeah…" Ponyboy mumbled. "I'll be safe."

"Yeah, you're going to be fine… but only if you sleep. You really do need it."

Ponyboy nodded again, feeling the bed lift up as Soda stood up. He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Back to bed."

Well, that was totally going against what Soda promised, but Ponyboy didn't point that out. He heard Soda take a few steps away from him and that was when he knew that he didn't want Soda to go. He shifted in the bed uncomfortably. "Um… Can you… stay here with me? At least… At least until I fall asleep?"

The request was quiet, almost inaudible. But, at that sentence, a small smile fell on Soda's lips. "Yeah, of course." Soda took a seat on the desk chair, thinking that that was what Ponyboy wanted. Ponyboy sat still, hands shaking. Even though Soda was there, he was too scared to go to sleep. His hands shook as he tried to relax but couldn't. He hugged himself. He needed something. He wanted to feel safe. He wanted things to go back to normal, but he knows that he's the one who is getting in the way of that. But he couldn't change anything. Not when Soda thought he was disgusting, despite what he claimed. Why else would he hardly talk to him? Why else was he hesitant to be around him?

"H-Hey, Soda?" he whimpered, voice shaking.

"Hm?" Soda hummed.

"Can you… um…" He closed his mouth, opening it again and again. It shouldn't be this hard to ask for what he wanted, but it was. What if Soda turns on him? What if he uses him like Vincent did? What if… Ponyboy hugged himself even tighter. He didn't want to think about it. It couldn't be true, right? Soda would never do anything to him. "Can we… like before?"

Soda let out a breath, eyes growing wide. Did he hear that right? Ponyboy wanted him to sleep next to him like they did before he disappeared? "You want me to sleep next to you?" Ponyboy nodded and Soda felt his heart swell. He sat down next to Ponyboy, hands raising up, reaching to him, but stopping inches short. He remembered how Ponyboy acted whenever he tried to put physical contact on him and how the last thing he wanted was to be touched by someone.

The hesitation was taken negatively with Ponyboy, who ducked his head even more. His eyes shut tightly. Soda really did think that he was disgusting. He was right all along. "I'm sorry. I'm sor—"

Before Ponyboy could finish that sentence, an arm looped around his chest, hand hooking on his shoulder. He tensed up, feeling his heart beat faster. The memories of him being felt up returned, making his skin crawl as if a thousand spiders were running across his body. He forced those memories away with a shake of the head. Soda would never do anything like that to him, he tried to remind himself. Soda was different than Vincent.

Soda felt Ponyboy stiffen and let go. "Sorry," he apologized. "I thought—"

"No. Continue… please."

Soda's heart was beating quickly as he wrapped his arms around Ponyboy again, pulling them both down on the bed. Tears sprung from the corners of Soda's eyes as he dug his head in Ponyboy's shoulder. He thought this would never happen again. He thought that he would never actually be able to hug his brother and comfort him, but now he was being allowed to. He was so happy that he couldn't help but cry a bit. He never thought that he needed this that much. Both of them didn't know how much they needed this small interaction.

Ponyboy slowly closed his eyes, nerves calming down. The arm felt like a security blanket, making him feel safe: a feeling he never thought he would ever truly feel again. He leaned into Soda's hold, feeling his shirt near his shoulder become damp. Soda was crying, he realized. But, what for? But, Ponyboy felt too tired to dwell on it too much. It felt like his eyelids were being pressed down by heavy weights. Finally, after days without rest, he let his body succumb to slumber.

 **o-o-o**

The next morning, Darry woke up with a loud yawn. He stretched his arms towards the ceiling as he sat up, hearing his joints crack. For a few minutes, he sat at the edge of the bed, slowly waking up. He listened to the house that would have been perfectly quiet if it weren't for Soda's snores. What time was it anyway?

Darry checked the clock and frowned. It was his day off so he didn't have to worry about work, but Soda should have been awake. From what he understood, Soda didn't have today off like he did. Getting up, Darry walked over to Soda's room, tapping his knuckles against the door. "Soda, you're going to be late," he informed, swinging open the door when he got no response, only to find the bed empty, the blankets in a bundle.

' _Where could he be?'_ Darry wondered. Soda was definitely in the house, the recognizable snores told him that. Another snore alerted him to Ponyboy's room and he knew that Ponyboy never snored like that.

Quietly this time, Darry opened Ponyboy's door, a small smile forming on his face at the sight that revealed itself before him. Both of his younger brothers were tangled together, Soda's arm draped over Ponyboy protectively. Both of them were sleeping soundly, without a care in the world. Ponyboy was leaning his head against Soda's chest, mouth slightly parted. His hands were lightly clutching Soda's shirt as if he was trying to make sure that he wouldn't leave him.

It was such a profound moment that Darry didn't want to end it, but they needed as much money as they could get with how much they owed to the hospital. He went to Soda's side, gently shaking his shoulder until he woke up. The teenager groaned, eye squeezing shut before fluttering open. He looked at Ponyboy who was still fast asleep and he smiled, pulling Ponyboy a bit closer. Ponyboy, in response, shifted so that he was hugging his brother. Soda's eyes shone brighter before finally turning his gaze to Darry. "Good morning," he chirped, despite just waking up. "What's up?"

"You're running late for work."

Soda looked at Darry pitifully, pouting. "Can't I stay like this today?"

Darry shook his head. "I wish you could, buddy, but we need to pay for all of those bills."

Soda let out a groan before carefully removing himself from his entanglement with his younger brother. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, standing up and stretching. "Make sure you tell him that I had to go to work, okay?"

"I will. Now hurry up before your boss busts you."

"I'm going. Bye."

When Soda left the house after getting ready, Darry sat down at the edge of the bed to observe Ponyboy's peaceful state, although it was a bit creepy. It would have been awkward if someone were to walk in and see him just staring at a sleeping boy. But, for now, he didn't care. Ponyboy looked a lot younger than he actually was again, reminding Darry of the time when he first saw Ponyboy in the hospital after being found. As soon as he sat down, however, Ponyboy stirred and his eyes opened.

"Soda?" he mumbled, patting around the area where Soda was sleeping before but found nothing. He left? Ponyboy lifted his head before noticing another source of breathing in the room. Instantly, Ponyboy stiffened. Soda wasn't there and there was someone else in the room. He shot up, despite his body disagreeing with it, pushing himself away from whoever was inside the room with him. However, the motion was too harsh and strong as he felt the bed disappear from under him. Ponyboy's body crashed against the ground and he cried out in pain as his broken bones were jostled.

"Pony!" Darry yelled in concern, rushing to his brother's side. "You alright?"

"Darry?" It was only Darry? Ponyboy felt himself relax a bit. It was only Darry… not Vincent. Thank God. But that still didn't explain why Soda wasn't there. He was supposed to be there when he woke up. "Where's Soda?"

"He had to go to work not that long ago."

"Oh…" He sat up and Darry went to help him up, but when his hand touched his forearm, Ponyboy pulled away forcefully. "Please, don't touch me."

Darry instantly withdrew his hands, nodding even though Ponyboy couldn't see that. "Sorry. I just wanted to help you up."

"I can get up on my own. Don't worry about it." To prove his point, Ponyboy put his hands under him and pushed himself to his feet, quickly grabbing onto the wall so that he wouldn't fall back down. "See?"

Humming, Darry grabbed Ponyboy's crutches and handed him them. "Here. Your crutches." Ponyboy took them gratefully, tucking them under his armpits.

Maybe, Ponyboy was getting better, Darry mused as he led Ponyboy out of the room with his voice.

"I'm going to make breakfast," Darry informed him when they made it outside the bedroom. Ponyboy nodded as Darry left him. All Ponyboy had to do then was figure out where the couch was.

At that moment, the door slammed open, causing Ponyboy to jump a bit. "Morning!" Two-Bit greeted as he entered the house.

"What did I say about slamming the door?" Darry scolded.

"To do it all the time?"

Darry scoffed. "Want to try that again?"

"To not do it," Johnny answered for him, appearing behind him.

"But slamming the door is half the fun."

"Fun doesn't make it okay. You probably scared Ponyboy half to death."

Two-Bit glanced over to Ponyboy who was paler than a ghost. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Ponyboy mumbled, moving forward again, but, during that small burst of excitement in the house, he forgot to check what was in front of him and ran straight into a wall. His head banged against the wall, and, although it didn't hurt, it still made him reel back a bit in shock.

Two-Bit burst out in laughter at Ponyboy's funny mistake, causing Ponyboy's ears to turn red. He quickly corrected himself and entered the living room, but, through his embarrassment, he forgot to check what was in front of him and banged his shin against the coffee table. Ponyboy let out a yelp and Two-Bit's laughter died down.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly. Ponyboy nodded, feeling around until he found the sofa and plopped down. "Your vision hasn't gotten any better?"

Ponyboy shrugged. "I can't tell. Maybe. I can see blurry silhouettes… but nothing more."

"What could you see before getting rescued?" Johnny asked, sitting down next to Ponyboy.

"Absolute darkness…" Ponyboy said that with a lower pitch than normal, causing everyone's skin to crawl. "Sometimes… I saw flashes of light… but nothing really more."

"So, there are improvements!" Two-Bit cheered and Ponyboy could only shrug again.

"That reminds me," Darry said, coming out of the kitchen. "We need to put more moisture in your eyes again."

He exited the kitchen after turning off the stove to prevent the food from burning. He grabbed the eye drop from the bathroom's medicine cabinet before returning to Ponyboy. "Eye drops?" Ponyboy asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. Lift your head up for me, okay? Make sure your eyes stay open."

Nodding, Ponyboy looked upwards. A hand caressed his chin and Ponyboy's eyes widened, remembering all the times that Vincent caringly touched him there. The next thing he knew, the eye drop was slapped out of Darry's hand, sliding across the floor.

The house went silent as Ponyboy realized what he just did. If possible, his eyes grew even wider and he started to shake. At that moment, his house faded around him and he was back in the basement. He could feel Vincent glare down at him, seething with anger. He did something bad again. He wasn't supposed to do anything bad and now he's going to be punished because of it.

Ponyboy violently flinched, ducking his head down and covering it with his arms. "I'm sorry. Please don't hit me again."

Nobody moved or spoke after that, at least, not for a while. They all stared at Ponyboy's quivering form with shock. Did he really think that Darry was going to hit him?

Darry was the first to snap out of it, picking up the eye drop from the floor. "I'm not going to hit you," he reassured.

"But I did something I wasn't supposed to! Please forgive me! I won't do it again! I'll be good!" All of a sudden, Ponyboy started to breathe erratically as he couldn't catch his breath. He started to loudly pant and gasp for air and Ponyboy didn't know if his hands were supposed to continue to protect his head, grab his throat, or clutch at his chest because of how fast his heart was beating. "I'm… I'm… Sorry…" he managed to get out through heavy gasps, head feeling light.

None of the gang members that were there knew what to do. They were frozen in place watching Ponyboy freak out. They had to do something, but what? That was when Johnny jumped into action.

"Ponyboy!" Pony heard Johnny call out, but his voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away. Unknown arms wrapped around him and Ponyboy went ballistic. He thrashed in the hold, screaming and pushing the body away, but whoever had a hold on him held tightly, pulling him into their chest. "Ponyboy, calm down. It's going to be okay."

Ponyboy slowly stopped struggling when he realized that Johnny was the one who was holding him. "Joh—" he gasped, "nny?"

"It's me. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Just breathe in…" Ponyboy followed Johnny's instructions, sucking in air and holding it. It was difficult and his lungs burned, but he managed to keep it in. "And breathe out…"

As Ponyboy let the air out, he felt a bit calmer and slowly took ahold of his breathing as he continued the procedure. Johnny was there. He wasn't going to get beaten and hut. With a final sigh, he leaned into Johnny who rubbed his back.

"It's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you," Johnny continued and Ponyboy hummed in relief, feeling tired all of a sudden but still stayed awake because he wasn't out of danger just yet.

"Ponyboy…" Darry mumbled, reaching out to comfort his brother as well but Johnny pulled Ponyboy closer to him, shooting Darry a look that no one thought they would see come from him.

"Don't touch him right now," Johnny snapped.

Darry reeled his hand back in shock. Johnny never rose his voice at him or at anyone. He looked back and forth between him and his kid brother. Although it hurt, he nodded and took a step back as Johnny went back to soothe his friend.

Two-Bit turned to Darry, jerking his head to the kitchen. When the two got there Two-Bit asked, "What was that about? All you did was touch his chin."

Darry rubbed at his neck, taking another look at Ponyboy, contemplating his next move. Should he tell him what Ponyboy revealed? Would he appreciate if he told everyone? But… they were the gang and they had the right to know, despite if Pony protests against it. "It's really complicated… we just found out ourselves…"

"So… What is it?"

"I think… I think everyone needs to hear it."


	18. Mixed Feelings

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Steve asked when the whole gang congregated together. They were back in the hospital so that Dally could hear the information as well. Ponyboy was less than pleased with the entire situation. He didn't want anybody to know what had happened to him. His brothers knowing was bad enough. He thought that after telling them, that would be the end of it; that he wouldn't have to speak about it again. Now the whole was going to know and was going to think he was disgusting. He couldn't be sure that they were going to be understanding, for lack of a better term, of the whole thing like his brothers were, although they probably would. He shouldn't be doubting him, but there was some sick part of him that was hoping that they would see him that way.

"Pony, you're going to have to keep talking about it," Darry said to him when he noticed how distraught he looked. Ponyboy probably should have known he was going to have to keep talking about it. He just didn't want to think about the future. All of the possibilities of what was to come scared him. When Ponyboy finally nodded, Darry answered Steve's original question. "There's something that you all have to know about Ponyboy. He's been keeping something from us, and Soda and I only just recently found out about it."

"What is it?" Johnny asked worriedly, taking quick glances at his friend.

"Ponyboy… he was…" Darry took another glance at Ponyboy who looked like he was going to throw up. He was looking away from everyone, raising his shaking hands to cover his ears as if that would change the fact that Darry had to tell everybody what had happened to him. Darry almost felt sorry for talking about the topic, but he had to keep going despite what his conscience was telling him. The gang had the right to know.

"Well, what is it?" Dally asked, growling impatiently.

"Ponyboy was…" Darry swallowed when he heard Ponyboy whimper behind him. He felt so bad about it. Ponyboy should have been the person who had to tell them, but Darry didn't think he could do it again. "He was raped."

At those words, the gang froze, similar to how Soda and Darry did when they had first learned about what had happened to their kid brother. Their eyes widened as they snapped their heads to the quivering boy who was slowly shrinking back. Out of all the things that they could have heard, they weren't expecting that. They thought that him being scared of contact was because of the torture, which was most likely still the case, but him being sexually assaulted? That explained so much.

"He was… Pony…" Two-Bit started, eyebrows turned downwards, making him look torn apart. "How cold this…" He stumbled over his words, unable to find which ones were right. There were no words that he could say that would help or reverse time.

"Goddammit!" Dally cursed, slamming his fist against the hospital mattress. Ponyboy jumped a bit, whimpering again. "I'm going to kill him!"

"That's why… That's why he reacted the way he did when I tried to put eyedrops in his eyes," Darry continued.

"Ponyboy…" Johnny murmured, looking sadly at his friend now who looked like he was going to throw up at any moment.

"Even the kid doesn't deserve that," Steve mumbled.

The gang continued to talk about him, but it started to sound all muffled as if Ponyboy was dunk underwater. He looked up from his feet. Before his eyes, the blurry figures of the gang morphed into laughing shapes that had eyes stuffed with disgust. Suddenly, their voices were so clear, sharp, and loud, hitting against his heart like a chisel and a hammer.

' _Whore.'_

' _Slut.'_

' _You're disgusting.'_

' _Just die already.'_

He knew that the words were all in his head, but he didn't want to think that he was anything but disgusting. He wanted them to hate him just as much as he wanted them to love him. The thought was sick and confusing and Ponyboy didn't know which one was right. Why did he want them to hate him when he yearned for them to accept him?

' _You're a burden.'_

' _Life would be better without you.'_

It was too much. The voices were too loud. It sounded like they were being screamed at him through a megaphone right next to his ear.

He had to run. Run far away from the voices and figures, but he had nowhere to go. He was trapped. No matter where he goes, the voices will always there, and he will always be tainted. He can't run away from what was already on him… or in him.

"Pony?" Johnny asked in concern when he saw the panic that covered his friend's face. Ponyboy snapped out of his mindscape, the laughing demons turning back to regular blobs. He was sweating profusely, panting heavily. The room was quiet as the gang all stared at him in concern. "You alright?"

No, of course, he wasn't. But when will he ever be? Ponyboy nodded. "I'll be okay."

"We don't think that you're disgusting if that's what you're worried about," Two-Bit said. Lie. They had to think he was because he knew he was gross. They were just saying that because it was what they were supposed to do in a situation like this.

What was he thinking? It was the gang. They wouldn't lie to him without a really good reason to.

Ponyboy forced a small smile on his face, hoping that it didn't look strained. "I know."

Satisfied with that answer, the topic shifted and Ponyboy let his lips rest. Smiling always felt like his lips were lifting heavy weights. He wasn't used to it at all and he didn't think he ever will be again.

"That reminds me. Tim Shepard came in to visit," Dally announced, and everybody looked at him in surprise. The last time they heard about Tim visiting Dally was when he wanted to get back at him for slashing his tires. "Said he has jury duty. It's for Ponyboy's trial, he thinks, from what he's been hearing."

"But he can't do that. Nobody on the jury committee can have personal ties with the defendant," Darry stated, frowning. "He's going to be given a pass and let go."

"Tim would probably like that," Soda hummed, knowing the other greaser. How many people even enjoyed being called in for jury duty? It couldn't be many. The number would be even lower in a greaser neighborhood.

"But wouldn't it be useful to have Tim there behind the scenes to make sure everything goes alright?" Two-Bit asked curiously. It made sense.

"It would but that's perjury. He would get in a lot of trouble if he gets caught," Darry answered as if that was that. However, Steve had a different idea, looking at Darry as if he was missing something big.

"So? He just won't get caught then. I doubt that they would know that Tim knows Ponyboy. They probably wouldn't do a background check either," Steve said.

"But—"

"Darry, you've been on jury duty before. Have they ever done a background check on you?"

"I don't think so, but—"

"So, let Tim do it. Call in a favor. I don't see why that's so hard to accept."

Darry looked skeptical, glancing at everybody's faces before finally relenting. He sighed, shifting his weight on another foot. "Fine, but we have to ask Tim to do that for us as soon as possible. They're going to ask if he knows Pony during voire dire."

"Voire dire? Darry, speak English," Two-Bit whined.

"It's the examination part for the people called in for jury trial. It's for making sure that everyone on the committee is qualified."

"When's the trial anyway?" Steve suddenly asked, crossing his arms.

"A week from now."

"A week? Isn't that really fast? I would have thought it would have been at the end of the month or something."

"He has the right to a speedy trial. They probably pushed a lot of the trials back for this one. It's going to be big. It's nothing like a hit-and-run crime or a vandalism crime. I wouldn't be surprised if Ponyboy's case is going to be the only one going on that day. Probably has a big courtroom too."

Johnny turned to his friend again. "Ponyboy, are you ready for it?"

To be honest, Ponyboy wasn't so sure. Everything was going too fast for him to comprehend. His brain couldn't keep up. It was all either ending or starting again. Was the whole ordeal really ending? He wanted it to, but hope… hope never ended up being good for him. It only ended in pain. Hope was for suckers, and Ponyboy had to remember that when proceeding.

"I have to be," he declared.

 **o-o-o**

The court day came way too fast for Ponyboy's liking. He was sitting on a bench inside the courthouse, waiting for it to begin. The courthouse was packed with people. Most of them were just observers who wanted to watch the hectic trial. Ponyboy didn't recognize any of them. Soda and Darry left to talk to his defense attorney and the gang had yet to arrive. Or maybe they were there and were trapped between the mob of people. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was alone at the moment.

Unbeknown to the people around him, Ponyboy was having an anxiety attack. His heart was beating rapidly, and it felt like the world was crushing his shoulders. Everyone's voice was too loud, and it felt like he was drowning again.

Ponyboy dug his fingers in his hair, trying to calm himself down. But, how could he? Vincent was there under the same roof as he was and this was going to determine what happens to the both of them. Knowing him, he probably had cards up his sleeves, waiting to use it and turn the whole game around.

He was going to die, Ponyboy knew. Vincent was going to be let go and he was going to kill him. Or worse. He was going to be captured and tortured again. Ponyboy couldn't take any more torture. He would rather die than go through that again as morbid as it was. Death was a commodity for him.

He had to calm down. Vincent wasn't going to be let go. Tim would make sure of that. He was going to be fine. The bailiff wouldn't let Vincent come close to him while in the courtroom.

But, of course, something always had to come and pull the rug out from under him.

Footsteps approached him and Ponyboy glanced up, seeing a blurry figure in front of him. The figure didn't talk, only stayed silent. It was probably Dally, who was let out a few days prior. Ponyboy didn't question why he was alone, and he certainly didn't question it when the figure sat right next to him until a hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it harshly.

"Hello, Ponyboy," they said, voice like nails sliding across a chalkboard. At the voice, Ponyboy's breath hitched in his throat, freezing on the spot. Instantly, his skin turned ghostly pale.

 _Oh, no. No. No. Please, no._

Vincent. It was him. He was right there.

Oh, God, what should he do? What should he do?! Oh, God, he was there. He had to do something. He had to escape. Run. He had to run. But there was no way that he could. Not with his messed-up leg and definitely not with the hand that was clamped on his shoulder.

He needed something else. His eyes skittered across the mob of blurry figures. Someone, please, help him. Help!

He had to cause a commotion and bring attention to him, but it felt like something was lodged inside his throat, preventing him from making any sound.

Darry, Soda, somebody! Help!

"It's been awhile," Vincent whispered into his ear, hot breath brushing past his lobe causing Ponyboy to squirm. It was just like the basement. The people around him faded away around them, leaving just the two of them. The hot breath continued to hit his head, hands like snakes as they slithered across his body. His fingers were like knives as they jabbed into any injury that he had. Ponyboy shut his eyes. No. No. No. Someone, please, help him.

Someone tripped over his foot, and, just like that, the dome covering the two of them shattered. The noise of the courtroom returned, downing him again.

"What do you want?" Ponyboy asked, voice shaking and tears brimming his eyes.

"You're going to admit that nothing happened."

What? Ponyboy shook his head. "Why would I do that?"

Pony could practically feel Vincent smile next to him. "Because you haven't told anyone about what you did. I know you didn't. I also know that you told people about what happened between us. They already are disgusted with you. Do you really want them to find out that you're just like me?"

Ponyboy rapidly shook his head. No, he wasn't like Vincent at all! "I'm not like you."

"But you are, and I know that you are already thought about that before. So, helping me would be the best of both worlds, right? Think about it. I'm the only person who actually cares about you. Do you really think that your friends and family love you? They stopped looking for you soon after you were gone. They might have said that they looked for you, but they were lying, and you know it. They want you gone. They think you're a burden, and now your brothers have to pay those hospital bills which they can't afford. They want you gone because their lives will be better, but I don't. You're special to me. I'm the only person who doesn't see you differently."

Ponyboy shouldn't have listened to him. He should have blocked those words out instead of letting them in. But it was so tempting to believe him. Vincent was confirming what he feared. He couldn't help but believe him. Vincent took care of him without complaining while he was with him. He wanted to make sure he was alive, even if he did hurt him from time to time. Vincent was always elated that he was there, or so Ponyboy thought.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? This was Vincent. He kidnapped him and tortured him. He didn't have any feelings. He was a psychopath!

Why was his brain so messed up?

While the two were talking, Soda took a look at his brother and frowned when he saw someone sitting next to him. "Hey, who's that?" he asked Darry and the defense attorney. The two looked to where Soda was pointing.

"What? He shouldn't be talking to Ponyboy," the defense attorney stated with an urgent tone.

"Why? Who is he?" Darry demanded, whipping back to the lawyer.

"That's Vincent."

As soon as that name dropped out of the lawyer's mouth, Darry and Soda were already stomping over to Ponyboy, pushing past people along the way. When they arrived, Vincent smiled at them, and if they didn't know who he was, they would have thought that it was one of Ponyboy's friends with how casual he was. Darry grabbed Ponyboy, roughly pulling him off of the bench towards himself and away from the criminal.

"Don't you touch him!" Darry snapped, pushing Ponyboy behind him. Soda hugged Ponyboy close, ignoring him squirm and struggle in his hold.

"I wouldn't do a thing to him," Vincent answered with a smooth voice. He leaned back comfortably in the bench as if he didn't have a worry in the world.

His brothers turned to Ponyboy whose face was twisted in discomfort. "Did he do anything? What did he say to you?" Darry demanded, shaking Ponyboy out of Soda's hold, making his brain rattle in his head.

Ponyboy looked at Vincent's blob, watching as his vision cleared a bit. The blurry face became clearer, and Ponyboy started to see Vincent's facial features, although it was still very hazy. Although it was like he was looking at him through a foggy glass, the image engraved in his brain. Vincent's face would be something that he would remember forever.

Why? Why was his face the first thing he had to see? Out of all things. Why him? It could have been anything, but it had to be him. If Ponyboy had the choice to have scissors shank his eyes our or to be given sight back with the price of seeing the madman, he would have chosen the former option. No doubt about it. He never wanted to see Vincent's face.

Vincent smiled at him. The teeth gleamed through the haze in his vision. It made Ponyboy even more scared that he had to tear his vision away. He shook his head, holding back his tears as best as he could. "No," he lied, voice somehow stable even though his knees were shaking so badly. "He didn't do a thing." It was scary how good of a liar he was. Even though he never believed himself, it was terrifying how easily he could change people's perspectives and worries.

"The trial is starting," the attorney interrupted, pushing towards them. "We should go."

"Right," Darry replied, shooting a dirty glare at Vincent who wasn't affected by it one bit.

"See you in there, Ponyboy," was all Ponyboy got to hear from Vincent before he was pushed into the packed courtroom. This was it. It was time to determine what was going to happen to the two of them. He had to put Vincent behind bars… but did he really want that? Did he want to put Vincent, who was potentially the only person who cared about him, in prison? That shouldn't have been a question. Ponyboy was going to make sure that he was going to go to prison.

…

Right?


	19. Curtis v Cox

**Disclaimer: I do not know what court is like. I took a Criminal Justice course where it did a quick run-over of a court session, but I'm just going off of how it is displayed in movies/shows because they're more interesting. Also, court, especially for big trials like this one, is usually held in multiple days. I sped it up so it's one day.**

 **o-o-o**

"Court is in session. Please, be seated."

As Ponyboy sat down in the old, uncomfortable, wooden chair of the courtroom, his eyes never wandered off of Vincent. It strained his eyes as he tried to focus on his kidnapper at the other side of the room, vision almost too hazy to make anything out, but he could swear that he was looking back at him. He swore that the expression that he wore was not one of worry, but one of amusement. He shivered as he saw him grin at him, snapping his head to the judge who started speaking again.

"At this time, the court calls Ponyboy Michael Curtis versus Vincent Leonard Cox," the judge began, reading out the case number. "Will the parties please state their appearances for the record?"

Allen, Ponyboy's attorney, stood up first. The chair slid back, emitting a loud, screeching noise that caused him to wince. "Good morning. Allen Duke, representing Ponyboy Curtis."

After he sat back down, the person next to Vincent stood up. "I am Donald Lee. I am representing Vincent Cox."

The judge started to address both the jury and the attorneys. Ponyboy drowned them out, returning his eyes to Vincent. He gulped when he saw Vincent wave shortly at him. He probably thought that Pony was going to help him, which he was still trying to sort out what he was going to do. It should have been a no-brainer, right? Then, why was he having so many doubts? He was jumping back-and-forth between his two options so much so that he was starting to forget what his original stand was. What did he want and who was telling the truth? Who truly cared about him? Man, his head was so messed up.

"Now, we will hear the opening statement of Allen Duke," the judge said. Ponyboy ripped his eyes away when his attorney interjected his vision by standing up. Allen walked up to the podium smoothly, turning to the jury. How he remained so calm and collected, Ponyboy wished he knew.

"Countless missing around the state, all of which had no conclusion and can now be presumed dead. We cannot let their killer walk out of here, free," his attorney recited. "I have brought here people to testify in court, including a medical professional. Now, let me tell you about my colleague, Donald Lee. Mr. Lee will do anything in his power to mislead you into believing that it was not Vincent Cox who committed the crime, but what happened to the victims was voluntary on their part. The crimes that he had committed has devastated the state. We seek justice for not only Ponyboy Curtis, but for the other people that have been missing, as well as their family and friends. So, please, jury… your honor… please be open and not bias, like your duty entails you to do."

"Thank you, Mr. Duke. Now, can we hear the opening statement of Mr. Lee?" the judge asked.

Donald Lee, once again, stood up, walking over to the podium with just as much gusto as Allen Duke. He read over a page that he had brought up with his statement before turning to the jury as if the paper never existed. He started, "We are all gathered here today to answer the question: Did Vincent Cox kidnap Ponyboy Curtis and kill other victims? I would like to remind the jury that there are no true witnesses that saw the crimes nor is there definite evidence to prove that Vincent Cox had done the crimes that had been charged for. Because of the lack of resources, it will answer the question that, no, Vincent Cox is not a criminal. He is a respected member of society. He is well educated, voluntarily does community service, and is well-liked by many with no notable enemy. Do you expect someone like him to be the cause of dozens to go missing and possibly killed? He never even got a ticket for speeding before. He is a responsible individual. So, with that, I ask the jury to be considerate and fair. Thank you for your time." Donald scuffled with his papers before sitting back down beside Vincent.

That was a really good opening statement, Ponyboy had to admit. If possible, he was even more worried. If he did try to put Vincent in jail, would it even matter with a DA like that?

Ponyboy shook his head. No, Tim would make sure nothing bad would happen to him.

But would he though?

Vincent's words twisted all of his memories and thoughts around, making them all backward. What was up and what was down? What was right and what was wrong? Ponyboy knew that Tim didn't care too much for him. He, at most, respected him. Heck, did the gang even care about him? What if they are trying to get rid of him? What if they went behind his back? Would they actually do that? Vincent never tried to get rid of him. He, instead, yearned for him.

"With that said," the judge said, moving on, "Mr. Duke, who do you call upon to come to the stand first?"

"I would like to call upon Dallas Winston to the stand," his attorney called out. There was shuffling behind him as Dally strolled up to the stand. He had agreed to testify for Ponyboy. No questions were asked. Pony didn't know how powerful his word was going to be for the jury though. Dally was quite infamous in Tulsa for being a 'no-good hood'. He sat down, after swearing to tell the truth, glancing constantly at Ponyboy. Man, the boy looked like he was wrecked, Dally noticed. He looked like he had a million conflicting thoughts running through his head, which didn't really make any sense to him. Ponyboy should only have one thought running to his head, and that was for getting Vincent behind bars. Dally didn't know, at the time, how correct his original thought was. "It comes to my understanding that you were in the middle of fighting Vincent Cox when he was arrested."

"Yeah," Dally confirmed in the microphone, voice echoing throughout the courtroom.

"Please describe why you did that and what he said to you."

Dally paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. He didn't want any chance of screwing up. He had to make sure that Vincent is properly arrested for Pony's sake. "Ponyboy told me that Vincent did it when he told us what happened to him in the basement. When I went over to confront him, we got in a fight. He told me during that time that he took Ponyboy to get revenge on me."

"So, he just admitted to you that he took Ponyboy?"

"Yes."

"Can you clarify on why he wanted to get revenge on you?"

"I don't know, man. It was for getting in his way or somethin'. I don't know what I got in the way of. We never butted heads before, and we hardly talk to each other. There was nothing that could have ticked him off. He's just crazy."

The attorney nodded, turning away, but not before saying, "Thank you, that is all."

"Call someone up to the stand," the judge said to Vincent's lawyer.

"If it's alright, I would like to keep Dallas Winston up on the stand."

When his name was spoken again, Dally froze in his pursuit to leave the stand, sending a glare at Vincent's attorney. What was he planning?

"You may," the judge agreed, and Dally sat back down with a short growl.

Donald stepped up to the podium. "Mr. Winston, you explained that Ponyboy told you my client did it. But did he tell you his last name? Was there any description on who Vincent was?"

Dally looked appalled. So, they were trying to turn his words against him. He glanced at Ponyboy again. Ponyboy was frowning deeply, eyes traveling to his own. If Dally didn't know that he was blind, he would have thought that Ponyboy was staring into his soul with how intensely he was scrutinizing him. He must have taken too much time thinking of an appropriate answer before the judge reminded, "Please state the truth or you will be committing perjury." He couldn't tell the truth because he had to defend his friend. Dally had no qualms with lying on the stand, and he was about to do so when Ponyboy nodded at him. He froze again, realizing what Ponyboy wanted him to do: Tell the truth. That was ridiculous! Telling the truth would put everything in jeopardy. But he trusted Ponyboy, and, if he wants him to tell the truth, he would do just that.

"No," Dally growled, eyes narrowing.

"Then it could have been any Vincent, not Mr. Cox. And, besides, how do we know that it wasn't _you_ who took Ponyboy? You're known for being very violent and has have arrested a numerous amount of crimes. You started the fight and you even attacked him with a knife, hence all the cuts on him."

"He stabbed me in the side!" Dally lifted his shirt a bit to show the bandaged that circled his torso.

"Self-defense! He was scared, just like how all of the victims were before they were killed. Ponyboy was probably terrified of you as well."

"I would never do anything to Ponyboy. We're close to each other." Man, this guy was going after him and making up any excuse that he could to throw off the jury. Dally balled up his hands, breathing deeply to not explode then and there.

"But that doesn't mean anything—"

"You honor! Objection!" Allen Duke interrupted, shooting up. "He's pressing and attacking him with his words."

The judge nodded, turning to the attorney interrogating Dally. "Mr. Lee, please refrain yourself or you will be asked to leave the facility."

Donald smiled, stepping away from Dally. "No worries, your honor. I'm finished."

The mumbles of the courtroom were loud now as people discussed Dally's words. The judge cleared his throat, but that didn't get anybody's attention. So, he grabbed his gavel and hit it against the wood circlet. "Quiet!" he screamed, and, instantly, everyone quieted themselves, turning back to the court scene. "Mr. Duke, please send up your next witness."

"Right," Allen answered, standing back up. "I call upon the medical professional, Mr. Larry Carson." Someone from the audience stood up, walking over to the judge.

After pledging that he would not lie, the medical professional sat down at the stand, fiddling with his fingers. Ponyboy never met the man before. He wondered who he was exactly and why his attorney would ask him to testify for him. He understood a second later though. "Mr. Carson, according to the records, you were the pediatrician that checked the health of Vincent Cox, am I correct?"

"Yes," the pediatrician replied with a nasally voice.

Allen held up a stack of papers that he had brought up to the podium with him. "I will like to use my first piece of evidence." He handed a few copies around before placing it in front of the doctor. "I have just handed you the medical diagnosis document of Vincent Cox of when he was a child of four years old. Can you prove that this is a legitimate document that you have created?"

It took a moment before the doctor spoke again. He scanned over the paper, nodding briefly. "Yes, it is."

"And can you read the diagnosis out loud?"

"Um… of course… Er… Vincent Cox was tested for and diagnosed with the MAOA, COMT, and the DRD2 genes."

"And can you tell everyone what those genes are?"

"They're some of the genes for psychopathy."

"It comes to my understanding that those genes are also called the murder genes, am I correct?"

"You are correct."

Allen smirked when he heard murmurs throughout the courtroom. He knew he had it in the bag despite the small screw up from Dally. His opponent didn't bring in a professional like he did. The jury was most likely to follow the side with the professional. "Thank you, that is all we need to hear." He sat back down.

The judge turned to the other defense attorney. "Who would you like to bring to the stand?"

The court trial continued like that for many minutes. It went back and forth for a while, and Ponyboy wondered how much longer he was going to be there. His joints were starting to stiffen up.

"I would like to bring the mortician, Manuel Rodriguez," his attorney called out.

Mortician? Ponyboy tilted his head to the side. Why a mortician?

"Mr. Rodriguez, a skeleton was found buried under the basement that Ponyboy was found in. Can you confirm that this is true?" his attorney continued.

The mortician leaned forward to the microphone. "It is."

"It has been several weeks since the body was brought in, and, I believe that you have the test results on who the skeleton was?"

"Yes, I do. There wasn't much to work with, but after much analysis, I have concluded that the skeleton belongs to Morgan Cox, the mother of Vincent Cox." People around them gasped at the new information. Ponyboy looked over to Vincent who, for a moment, glared at the mortician. Although it wasn't directed towards him, the amount of bloodlust that radiated off of Vincent gave him shivers. "However, the reason for her death is unknown. We barely had enough DNA to just find out who the skeleton belongs to. There wasn't enough to find out the cause of death."

"Alright, thank you. That is all. Your honor, if I may, I would like to bring up someone else to the stand to follow-up the mortician."

"You may do so," the judge replied.

"Thank you." Allen turned around and stared at Vincent. "I would like to bring Vincent Cox to the stand for questioning."

Again, there were murmurs as Vincent stood up, calmly walking up to the stand. "What do you want to ask me?" he asked.

"I just wanted clarification on why that skeleton was buried under the house. From the records, the house didn't belong to you."

"No. It belonged to a friend of mine, practically a brother. But he went missing a while ago," Vincent lied.

"You would bury your mother's corpse in their basement?"

"Yes. Our families were close. She wanted to be buried with my friend's mother but didn't want to be in a cemetery. But everyone disappeared before that could happen."

The attorney looked at Vincent with disbelief. His excuse sounded absolutely ridiculous, but he couldn't call him a liar. There was nothing that could disprove him. "Then how did she pass away?"

"Heartbreak. My dad passed away from an illness and my mother couldn't handle losing him. We cremated him if that is your next question. His request."

There were flaws in his story, but one look at the jury told him that they were eating it all up. That was bad. Luckily, they had a stealth juror on their side.

"Will that be all, sir?" Vincent asked, voice like smooth poison

Allen growled, nodding. "That is all. Thank you."

Again, everything went back and forth. Ponyboy tuned everyone out, too anxious to concentrate on what was being said. He looked back to Vincent who was back in his chair. As soon as his eyes fell onto him, the kidnapper turned his head to reciprocate his stare. They held eye contact for who knows how long. The only sense of time that he had was from how many times his heart was beating per minute, which was off due to how fast it was going. His attention was ripped from him when he heard his name being called by Vincent's lawyer. "I would like to bring Ponyboy Curtis to the stand."

Ponyboy's head whipped back around, feeling his anxiety bubble up again. He gulped. This was it. This was where he had to decide what happens to Vincent… and what happens to him.

"Let me help you go up," his attorney whispered to him as Ponyboy grabbed his crutches. He didn't tell him that he could see where the stand was. His vision wasn't very reliable still.

A hand touched his shoulder as he hopped over to the judge who held up the bible. The judge reached over and placed Ponyboy's hand on it before he recited, "Do You swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I do," Ponyboy answered. He sat down at the stand, feeling his heart hammer away at his chest. His eyes traveled from one side of the courtroom to the other, seeing how many people were there (although way too blurry to make out any distinct features) watching him. His hands trembled so badly that he had to grasp them together so that they wouldn't shake so much. His eyes shot to the gang who were probably giving him encouraging looks. They were too far away for him to see them though. Ponyboy closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he nodded at Vincent's lawyer to start.

Donald nodded back to him and asked, "Ponyboy, it is no secret that you are blind. Did you ever see Vincent before this happened to you?"

Of course, that was going to be a question. His vision was a huge issue for his side of the trial. He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Then you couldn't possibly have seen him."

"No."

"Then how could you pinpoint it on Vincent Cox?"

That was something he could answer. "Because—" But, right after he let out his first word, he was cut off by the overzealous lawyer.

"Because he didn't actually do anything, correct?"

Ponyboy was about to shoot back a statement when he heard Vincent clear his throat. His blood ran cold at the sound of it. It was time. There was no more treading around the questions. He saw Vincent move his hands across his throat, probably indicating death.

That's right. Vincent had something on him. There was blood on both of their hands, but Ponyboy was the only one of them who has something really on the line.

 _If he cared about you, would he blackmail you?_

Ponyboy didn't know. How were people supposed to act towards each other? He was in the basement for what seemed like forever. It felt so long that he just forgot what other people were like. He knew what the gang members were like. Soda was caring, happy-go-lucky, and understanding. Darry was harsh but looked out for you. Johnny was shy but would walk through fire and ice for you. Two-Bit was positive and a jokester. Steve was tuff and smart. Dally was cool and aloof. But his time with Vincent just muddied his views on them.

Vincent just wanted someone to make him happy.

Is it really right to put someone in jail for wanting to be happy?

"Ponyboy, please, answer the question," the judge said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"He… uh…" Ponyboy stammered, mouth dry. What was he going to do?

Vincent cleared his throat again, and, for a short, sickening, moment, Ponyboy calmed down enough to know his answer. "No," he confessed in the microphone. "He didn't."

And, just like that, the court broke out in an uproar. The gang stared at Ponyboy with wide eyes, not believing what they were hearing. What was Ponyboy doing? They had Vincent in the bag, and he was just going to let him free? No, that couldn't be right. Something had to be wrong.

"Do something," Darry begged the attorney who nodded in response, totally aware of the situation.

"I'm on it," he declared, shooting up from his chair. "Objection! He's been told to lie! Vincent approached him before the court session started!"

The audience in the courtroom increased in volume. The judge stared at Allen Duke for a short while before grabbing his gavel and hammering it down a few times. "Quiet in the courtroom!" he screamed. Everyone hushed down, staring expectedly at the judge. He turned to Ponyboy. "Is that true? Were you told to lie by Vincent Cox before the session started?"

Yes. "No, your honor. Vincent did not approach me. Me disappearing was my own decision. Vincent only helped me survive. He didn't do anything wrong," Ponyboy monotonously stated, eyes blank. It was like all emotion was sucked out of him. The look disturbed the judge. It was obvious that something was wrong, but he couldn't accuse him of lying in court.

There was one thing he could do though. "We're going to take a short break. When we come back, we will wrap up the session." The judge hoped that the break would be enough.

The courtroom quickly became empty, leaving only a few inside. Ponyboy only got to the center of the courtroom before the gang and the attorney approached him.

"Ponyboy, what the hell?" Darry growled. "Why are you doing this?"

"He didn't do anything wrong," Ponyboy murmured.

Vincent approached the gang with a fake smile on his face. As soon as he approached, Dally grabbed him by the shirt. "What did you tell him?" he demanded.

The kidnapper only raised his hands to show that he was innocent. "I didn't do anything. Ponyboy just realized who actually cares about him."

"What do you mean by that?" Two-Bit asked.

If possible, Vincent looked even more creepy. "Ponyboy, come here."

"He's not going to do anything," Darry said. "He has more sense than that."

But, when he saw Ponyboy move forward, his eyes widened again. Pony hobbled over to Vincent who swung his arm over his shoulder after he shoved Dally off of him. At that moment, the gang realized how much power Vincent had on him. They were wrong to think that Vincent wouldn't still have a hold on him after all of the torture that he had been through. The gang tried to grab Ponyboy's eyes, but his gaze wouldn't leave the floor.

"Why, Ponyboy?" Johnny managed to get out through his shocked state.

"Deep down, he's not a bad person," Ponyboy answered. His monotone voice sent shivers down the gangs' spines.

"He tortured you, raped you, and stabbed me!" Dally hissed, glaring knives. "How could you say that he did nothing?"

Ponyboy finally looked up, forcing a strained smile on his lips. His eyes looked absolutely dead though, cracking the illusion of happiness. "I wanted it. He didn't do anything to me that I didn't want."

This was all wrong. It was sick.

"Shit, kid, listen to yourself," Steve cursed, looking at Ponyboy with an appalled expression. "You sound absolutely insane."

"Pony… you never wanted that to happen to you. If you wanted it, you wouldn't have been so… broken and torn up about it. You wouldn't have been traumatized," Soda explained, watching as the smile on his brother's face waver a bit.

"Yeah, you're not like yourself at all. Snap out of it and get away from that asshole."

Ponyboy shook his head in confusion. "Why? It's not like any of you care. Vincent cares though. He's the only person."

The gang felt their hearts drop a bit at his statement. Did he really not think that they cared about him? After everything they did for him?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dally screamed.

"Pony, we care about you so much," Darry said. "We spent every day and night looking for you. You're really special to us."

"Yeah, without you… it just wasn't right," Two-Bit added.

"If I didn't care about you, why would I spend most of my time by your side?" Johnny asked, lips trembling.

The smile completely dropped from Ponyboy's lips. That's right. They always were there for each other, even before he was kidnapped. Christ, everything was so skewed. He wanted to put Vincent away so that he and the gang would be safe. If Vincent was placed in jail, he would be put on death row. Everything could finally just stop. But what would happen to him? Nobody could find out what he did.

"What does he have on you to stay by his side?" Steve asked and it was Ponyboy's turn to widen his eyes. It was like he read his mind. "Because, whatever it is, we won't think differently of you."

His words were like a wake-up call. What was he doing? He didn't want to be a burden to the gang, but here he was doing just that. He was being selfish; only thinking about himself.

No matter what, he had to protect the gang, even if it meant that he would be dragged down the rabbit hole with Vincent.

Suddenly, people started to file into the courtroom. Vincent let go of him, and Ponyboy let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in.

"Court is now back in session. Please, take your seats," the judge instructed. "Mr. Ponyboy Curtis, please, sit back in the stand."

When Ponyboy did just that, he made sure that his eyes didn't wander to Vincent. He didn't want to risk falling back into his clutches.

"Now, I'm going to ask this again," the judge continued. "Did Vincent approach you before the session?"

Without missing a beat, Ponyboy stated, "Yes. He approached me before court started and threatened me."

"What did he threaten you of?"

He swallowed thickly. "That he was going to tell people that I was a murderer."

Gasps erupted throughout the courtroom. "Well, did you?"

Ponyboy rapidly shook his head. "No! I could never. I can't even kill a bug without feeling bad about it," Ponyboy lied. "He wanted to take me down with him so that he could have me forever."

The judge started to talk, but Ponyboy didn't listen to him. Instead, he finally looked up at Vincent, thinking that he would see his face twisted in anger. But what he saw made his heart stop. Vincent's fake smile was still on his face. He still looked absolutely relaxed even though he was in a bad position. What was he thinking about? Did what he say mean nothing to him?

Eventually, Ponyboy was allowed to sit back down with his attorney. The judge cleared his throat before addressing the two lawyers. "Now, we will hear your closing arguments," he said.

Vincent's attorney stood up first, heading back to the podium. "

"Jury, do you really want to send an innocent man to death row? Do you want to see someone who had given so much to the community suffering behind bars for his entire life? All of this just because a child had lied on the stand? Vincent Cox is not a murderer. Many people came up to talk about Vincent's 'wrongdoings', but I will tell you that they all lacked background information, which we provided. There were many holes and that is why my client is innocent. He did not approach Ponyboy Curtis, despite what he said. He kept his distance from him because it is Vincent that is the victim, not Mr. Curtis. During the break, his family members approached him and talked him into changing his story. He told the truth in the beginning before he changed his mind after much coercion. So, please, jury, go over all of the evidence and be fair," Donald Lee recited before sitting down.

Allen Duke stood up next. He took a deep breath before starting his rant. "Many people had fallen in the hands of Vincent Cox and many more will if he is let free. I have been a prosecutor for more than two decades and I have never faced such a heinous crime. All of those deaths… it is all so tragic… and we can't let that continue. Vincent is manipulative and calculating. Not once during this entire ordeal did he look worried. It's not normal whatsoever! He was diagnosed with the psychopath genes and had murdered his parents, despite what he said. They had claimed that there were flaws in our testimonies, but they had holes as well. I have provided you will great evidence to show that Vincent Cox is a killer, and he is. Now, it's your turn to decide if this tragedy should continue and spread, or if it should stop. I have no doubt that you will make the correct decision. Thank you."

When Allen sat back down, the judge turned to the jury and told them to discuss the case. The wait for them to return to the courtroom felt like an eternity. Each agonizing moment just added more to Ponyboy's anxiety. The gang tried to reassure him, telling him that everything was going to be okay. They told him that justice would be served, but Ponyboy wasn't sure if that was right. Vincent wasn't scared at all… but that could have been because of his lack of real emotions.

Finally, the jury returned, sitting back down in their seats. Ponyboy ducked his head, praying to whoever was listening. Please, send him away. Please, lock him up!

"Does the jury have a verdict?" the judge asked.

One representative stood up. "We have. Vincent Cox… is innocent."

And, just like that, Ponyboy felt his world shatter again.

 **o-o-o**

 **Hey, everyone! Make sure you leave a review! It really makes me happy.**

 **Also, I have a really important announcement. Unfortunately, this story only has a few more chapters left. So, it is time to start thinking about what I want to write next. But I'm stuck on which idea I want to write next. I had published a poll of some of my favorite ideas, which you can have access to on my profile page. Please, if you can, answer it. It would really help me out a lot. I put vague descriptions of the ideas, so if you would want to know more about them, just PM me and I'll tell you a better summary/plan for it.**

 **Thank you!**


	20. MIA or Not

Tim Shepard didn't really care much for the trial. In fact, he would rather not be here at all.

The unairconditioned room was scorching and almost unbearable to be in. The other people in the jury had opened the windows, but that didn't help much at all. Tim was hardly in the room for five minutes and he was already sweating like a pig. His hair clamped to his head and he didn't know if it was from his sweat or from the grease that he had groomed in before the trial.

Why did he agree to do this? He could have gotten out of it. He could have been doing something fun, like picking a fight, but he had to sit for hours in the courthouse doing practically nothing.

In his opinion, it wasn't worth it, but the Curtis gang really needed his help. Greasers had to look out for each other.

"Regarding the trail, who here thinks that Vincent Cox is guilty?" the foreman started, fanning himself with his hands. Tim almost smirked at the question. All the jury had to do was say that Vincent was guilty and then they would be out of the room in no time. He was obviously guilty, and he could already see that everyone thought so too. That was what he thought before they started deciding. But, as soon as people started to raise their hands, and hope for leaving was rising, Tim was wrong. Everyone raised their hand except for one person. That person just sat coolly in his seat without a care in the world.

"So that's eleven people…" the foreman counted. "Who thinks that he's innocent?"

The man raised his hand as the entire jury stared at him with annoyed eyes. They all wanted to just leave the hot room.

"Why aren't you raising your hand?" someone on the jury asked, tapping their finger on the wooden table between them.

"I just don't think that he's guilty, is all," the man shrugged. "There's no one that has actually seen him kidnap or kill anyone. We shouldn't put someone on death row when there is no evidence that proves him guilty."

The jury mumbled and nodded, accepting the justifiable statement. Tim frowned. He instantly knew what was happening. The man was just like him in the way that he was a stealth juror. He thought that he was the only one.

Tim narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the other stealth juror. As if he knew who he was, the man turned his face to him, staring back with a knowing smirk. And, just like that, he knew that his suspicions were correct. This man was trying to make sure that Vincent was proven innocent. Things just got a hundred times more complicated.

Tim growled, clenching his fists. It looked like he actually had to do something after all.

"Curtis had better evidence," Tim argued. "Someone could commit a crime without any witnesses if they're smart about it."

More murmurs of agreement. At that point, t was just Tim versus the other guy.

"You'd probably know about that, huh, hood?"

Tim was unaffected by the insult. He just crossed his arms impatiently. His glare made everyone shift in uneasiness. "And you're probably defending Cox because he tortured a greaser," he spat back.

The two glowered at each other until the foreman had enough. He slammed his fists against the table, snapping everyone's attention to him. "Enough! We are here to decide the outcome of the case; not squabble." But even though they were warned, they continued to glare at each other, unwavering.

"Just look at Curtis's reaction to Vincent," Tim continued, "He was traumatized. You can't fake that."

"He's lying about it. His story is too ridiculous to be true. And, besides, Mr. Curtis was defending him before he switched sides. Isn't that suspicious?"

"Vincent got to him to lie. Did you not listen to him?"

"There were no witnesses to that exchange besides the Curtis family. While there were witnesses before Ponyboy started to lie."

"He wasn't fucking lying."

"Either way. Are we really going to put someone who has given so much to the community a sentence? He didn't do anything wrong. He was just accused of a crime he didn't commit."

The jury was eating the man's words and Tim knew that he was losing. He gritted his teeth. He just wanted to pummel this man to a pulp.

"Let's vote again," the foreman announced. "Who thinks that Vincent Cox is innocent?"

Half of the hands lifted.

"But Vincent didn't have anyone to testify for him. His lawyer just used Curtis's people," Tim continued, trying to keep cool. His nails dug into the bottom of the table and he wished that he had his switchblade on him.

"Because there were holes in Mr. Curtis's story. A story is unlikely true if there are holes."

"That sounds correct," someone on the jury murmured, which was followed by other people humming in agreement.

Again, they voted, and more people raised their hand for Vincent being innocent. Tim was just about ready to give up. It just wasn't worth it. The room was too hot, and everyone there was beyond irritated at that point. They continued to argue, even though, eventually, all of the jury members, besides him, thought that Vincent was innocent. But that was okay. All Tim had to do was not raise his hand when they voted for Vincent being innocent. It was as easy as that. Hopefully, the people in the jury would swap over to his side, even the person who was debating with him, because of the intense heat of the bedroom or just listening to common sense. But he knew the chances were low.

The foreman dabbed his sweat away with his damp handkerchief. He glared at Tim whenever he didn't raise his hand. "Who here believes that Vincent Cox is innocent?" he asked again through gritted teeth. Again, Tim did not vote. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other.

The foreman started to count, and as he passed by Tim, he shot him a scowl. "Eleven hands."

Groans came out of everyone's mouth. But then the other stealth juror spoke up. "Are you sure? I can recount," he offered.

"Fine," the foreman replied, waving his hand.

The stealth juror waved his finger up and down at each person. He passed by Tim with a smirk. He was up to something. But what?

It all came to him when he said, "There were twelve hands up."

What? Tim narrowed his eyes. That little fucker. "I didn't raise my hand," Tim retorted, shooting to his feet. The jury ignored him like he didn't exist at all. "Hey!"

"Is that so? Well, then I guess we can all go out now," the foreman announced, earning relieved sighs. People started to stand up, but Tim pushed through everybody to the other stealth juror. He grabbed the man by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, ignoring the yells behind him.

"Bailiff! Somebody, get a bailiff!" a juror screamed.

"Listen here," Tim growled. The other stealth juror gulped, cocky smirk long gone. His eyes flickered to the prominent scar that ran across Tim's face. He immediately remembered that Tim was a hood, which put him in a very dangerous situation. He only agreed to become a stealth juror for Vincent because he was paid to… but he quickly came to the understanding that it wasn't worth it. His life was far more important than money. "I did not raise my hand, you hear? Stop fucking with the jury. We all know that he's guilty, and you know that too."

Before Tim could get another word out of his mouth, the door slammed open and he was roughly grabbed. His body was pulled backward, but he twisted around, somehow getting out of their grasp, and punched a bailiff in the jaw. As soon as he did that, the other bailiff pulled out his gun, pointing it at Tim. Instantly, the greaser stopped.

"Please, come with us, sir," the armed bailiff ordered. Tim clicked his tongue in the annoyance, sending one last glare at the other stealth juror before complying. He wasn't dumb enough to go against a gun.

' _Sorry, Curtis,'_ Tim apologized. He wasn't able to help.

 **o-o-o**

Peace should have been amazing, but Ponyboy couldn't help but feel distraught. His eyes skittered around his bedroom, seeing the shadows of his room creep towards him. The shadows were like clawed hands, waiting to grab him and pull him away again. The whispers were back and louder than ever, but, this time, they sounded like Vincent. But it couldn't be him. Vincent had been MIA for weeks. After the trial, he just disappeared but, even though he has been missing, Ponyboy grew even more paranoid. It felt like he was waiting for a jump scare in a horror movie.

He knew that Vincent wasn't finished with him despite what the gang kept telling him. He was absolutely obsessed with him. That's why he knew that he was coming back. That was the reason why Pony trapped himself in the house. More specifically, his bedroom. Ponyboy hardly left his room, too scared to leave the comfort of the enclosed area. He scratched at his bandaged arms with his chipped fingernails. Although his arm had completely scabbed over by now, he was too ashamed to reveal it. It looked absolutely disgusting, in his opinion. Miraculously, his leg had mostly healed as well. Pony could walk on it without too many problems now, although it still hurt quite a bit. He didn't need crutches anymore, which was a relief. His armpits were bruised for a while because of it.

There was a soft raddle against the door, causing Ponyboy to jump with a quiet squeak. His eyes shot to the door, feeling his heart pound against his chest. The handle turned and all Pony wanted was for the door to stay shut. When he heard Soda's voice, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Vincent. "Pony?" Soda called out, entering the room. He scanned the room for his little brother before his eyes eventually landed on him. "You're still there? You haven't moved from that spot since this morning."

Ponyboy could only shrug, hugging himself tighter. Soda's eyes softened as he approached him, crouching down.

"Ponyboy, come on out," Soda pleaded with a gentle voice, but Ponyboy only shook his head. He couldn't go out. He was more vulnerable outside his room. "Come on, baby, he's not going to get you."

"Yes, he will!" Ponyboy cried out. "I just know it."

"It's been weeks, and nothing has happened. He probably doesn't want to risk going to trial again."

That did sound logical, Ponyboy had to admit… but still. Vincent wasn't the type of person to just leave someone alone after they went against what he wanted. He was still going after Dally and it's been months. "He's going to get me."

Soda sighed. It was just like before. Ponyboy was getting better, but now he reverted back to how he was when he was found. Soda personally hadn't seen Vincent's 'dark' side, but it must have been dangerous if Pony was like that and Dally couldn't win against him. "No, he won't. No one would let him get to you, I promise."

Ponyboy still looked unsure. Soda knew that it was going to take much more than words to ease him. "Let's go out and watch a movie or something," he suddenly suggested. Ponyboy perked up at the word 'movie' but his excitement only lasted a second before it was overtaken by fear. He couldn't leave the house. Leaving the room was scary enough. "You haven't done anything that you liked to do before you got taken."

"I haven't really been in the mood. There's been a lot going on," Ponyboy mumbled, playing with the gauze around his arm.

Soda smiled again which calmed down Ponyboy quite a bit. He liked it when Soda smiled. He hated to see Soda stressed and depressed. "Well, that's going to have to change then. We can all go together—the whole gang. It'll be fun. We haven't done anything together for a while."

Ponyboy was still hesitant. He frowned, twisting his face. Watching a movie would be nice though. "But what about Vincent. He's out there."

"The six of us will take care of you. He won't stand a chance against all of us." As a joke, Soda flexed his biceps. But, man, he was no Darry. He was only moderately muscular, so it was underwhelming. If Ponyboy wasn't in so much distress, he would have laughed.

"Come on, Ponyboy," Soda begged, voice laced with desperation. His smile twitched, drooping slightly. "Do this for all of us."

Man, did Ponyboy feel terrible. He was holding everybody back from having fun and enjoying their lives. At least one of them always had to be in the house with him, making it hard for them to all go out together. In the beginning, Ponyboy thought that staying away from everybody would make everybody happy. He didn't know that by doing so, he was making everything worse for them.

And, to add onto that, Soda was _begging_ to see a movie with him. Begging! He and most of the gang disliked watching movies. This never happened! It must be really important if Soda was begging to watch a movie. He let out a shuttered breath. He had to go. He just had to suck it up. He had to do it for the gang and be less selfish. "What movie is showing?" he asked, voice shaking with nervousness. He hoped that watching the movie would be worth it.

At his question, Soda beamed, eyes sparkling. Instantly, he looked ten years younger, almost like a kid. It brought warmth to Ponyboy's heart. Yeah, it was definitely going to worth it. "Really?" Soda squeaked, voice a few pitches higher.

"Really."

The smile on Soda's face stretched from ear to ear. He shot back to his feet and pulled Ponyboy up as well. "Let's go then! The gang should all be here, waiting for us. They're in the living room."

Wait. They already panned it? Ponyboy's eyes widened in shock. It made him wonder how many times they have all tried to get him out of the house. Oh, man, did he feel bad now. They probably tried dozens of times. He probably hurt or disappointed them every single time.

Soda led Ponyboy out of the room, holding his wrist lightly. The two of them walked to the living room where the gang was all standing, waiting patiently for them. When they emerged, all of their eyes fell onto Pony, grinning. Even Steve was smiling.

"The boy lives!" Two-Bit cheered, swinging his arm around Ponyboy's shoulders. At the action, Pony uncomfortably raised his shoulders but eventually relaxed.

"Now that we're all here, let's go. We're probably going to be late," Darry said, looking a bit pointedly at his youngest brother.

Ponyboy smiled sheepishly, scratching his cheek. "Sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine. Now, let's go."

The gang started to leave but Ponyboy noticed that something was different. Something was missing. No, more like someone. He looked at each person before it all dawned to him. "Hey, where's Johnny?"

 **o-o-o**

The night breeze quietly whistled. Johnny shivered as he walked towards the Curtis house. They were all supposed to go see a movie if they were able to convince Ponyboy to leave his room. Honestly, he wasn't sure if they were going to go or not. Ponyboy has been like a scared puppy—quivering with his tail between his legs. Johnny tried many times to get him out of his room, but all failed. The only time that he ever leaves his room is to go to the bathroom. So, Johnny really hoped that Ponyboy would go watch a movie with them. They never all had fun together in a long time. They all needed it.

He was getting closer to the house when there was a sound behind him, sort of like a bottle being kicked. Johnny whipped his head around, heart jumping suddenly. He expected to see a cat or someone, but there was no one there. He was alone on the street. Not even a driver passed by him. I must have been his imagination. Being alone in the dark does that to you.

He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in. It was just his imagination. Just his imagination. It was nothing, Johnny. It was probably just the breeze.

He continued his trek to the Curtis house as if nothing had happened… but then he heard another noise, almost like shuffling feet, but much closer this time. He froze in his tracks again, looking around, but, again, he was still alone.

' _Just your imagination. It's nothing,'_ Johnny coaxed himself.

But, when Johnny heard the shuffling again, he knew that someone or something was stalking him. He instinctively sped up his pace, breaking out in cold sweat, a complete contrast to how fast his body temperature was increasing. Constantly, Johnny looked over his shoulder, but, no matter what, he didn't see anybody. His heart pounded quickly against his chest, becoming faster the longer he was outside. He was almost at the house now. He just had to get there before whatever was behind him catches up with him.

He was practically running now. The houses around him passed by quickly. With how dark it was, it was hard to recognize any of the homes. He hoped he was going the correct way.

Johnny turned a corner before a hand grabbed him. Before he knew what had happened, he was shoved to the ground. His head slammed into the asphalt, causing him to see scars. He didn't even get a chance to scream for help when a fist came down at his face.

 **o-o-o**

 **If you haven't voted for what story I should write next, please do so. It will only take a few seconds and it will help me out so much. The poll can be accessed on my profile page.**

 **Thanks!**


	21. Silhouette

**Sorry for the wait! I had a really rough two weeks, managing summer college courses and two jobs. It's just been super stressful and I rarely have time to do anything. I'm really sorry. I'm trying my best. I'm just really burning out with how much work is being forced onto me. I also didn't really like this chapter, but *shrugs*.**

 **o-o-o**

Everything was a rush. At first, Johnny felt an electrocuting pain spreading across his face. It happened so fast that it took a moment to fully process the fact that he was just punched. His body collapsed on the ground, eyes shutting tightly out of habit. He draped his arms over his head, expecting to be used as a kicking bag. But… nothing happened. It was silent besides the constant droplets of water that fell from a leaking pipe. It was as if the person who punched him had just disappeared.

But Johnny knew better. Nobody would aggressively pull someone aside to just punch them once. Whoever attacked him was still there, waiting for him to reopen his eyes. Johnny almost wanted to just stay in place with his eyes plastered shut until the gang, who were most likely out looking for him, came to rescue him.

He couldn't keep his eyes closed forever though. Who knew how long he would have to wait until the gang arrived? And who knew how long the person's patience was?

After a short while, Johnny gained enough courage to pry open his eyes. Just like what he had thought, the person who slugged him was still there; looming over him. Although all Johnny could see was a dark silhouette, the man's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, sending shivers down the boy's spine. What was most striking though was how dead and blank they were. They were so dead that they didn't look like eyes at all.

Johnny inspected the figure, hoping to find any distinguishable features besides the abyss-like eyes, but he only had a moment to look at him before the man moved. He took a heavy step towards him, reminding Johnny of the danger that he was in.

 _Get away! He's going to get you!_

But Johnny stayed still despite his brain screaming at him to escape. It felt like he was cemented to the ground. His eyes were blown wide, larger than plates, as he watched the man pull something out from behind his back. The object shimmered in the moonlight and Johnny felt dread was over him. It was a blade. If he had any doubts on if the man was going to murder him, he sure knew so now.

His fingers twitched as he tried to reach towards his own blade, but intrusive thoughts halted him in his tracks. He had a blade, but then what? What was he supposed to do with it? Kill him? Johnny's stomach turned at the thought. He didn't want to kill anybody, which was the biggest and the most dangerous difference between the two. The man before him wanted blood. He wanted to kill. Johnny just wanted to run. He was the prey, and the predator almost always wins when it came to hunting.

 _Go!_

A squeak left Johnny's throat as he snapped out of it. He pushed himself backward as fast as he could to get away. His limbs sloppily stumbled around, constantly buckling, but he kept going. His hands dug into the small shards of broken glass that was scattered there, probably cutting his skin judging by the warmth that spread across his palms. The silhouette kept approaching him at the same pace, still managing to keep up. It was clear that crawling away was going to get him nowhere. He had to get back on his feet.

He was going to die if he didn't run away. He had to run.

Johnny tried to push himself up to his feet, but his body felt heavy and it was shaking far too much to even stand.

 _Run! Run!_

The man was now upon him, knife raised above his head. Johnny again shut his eyes tightly, too scared to keep watching. His arms tripped, causing his back to crash against the floor.

He couldn't die now. This wasn't how he was supposed to go. He was too young.

Just as he thought the knife would strike him and end him instantly, nothing happened. Not at first, at least. There was a long pause—long enough for Johnny to open his eyes again out of curiosity. But, as soon as he did, he wished that he hadn't. The tip of the blade was lightly pressed against his chest, slightly spinning like a top. His eyes were frozen on the weapon as it trailed down his chest to the bottom of his shirt with a feather-like touch. The blade lifted his shirt up, causing Johnny to shiver at the breeze before it trailed his skin to his waist. During that entire time, Johnny couldn't breathe. His breath caught in his throat almost like something was blocking him from breathing.

The blade danced across his skin a bit more before the tip dug in and, finally, the breath that Johnny was holding in came out in a loud cry. His skin split apart wherever the knife dragged to as immense heat that he couldn't bear washed over the area. It burned as if a white-hot, metal pole was being pushed into his side. Johnny let out short and quick gasps, as his shaking hands tried to pry the knife away, but it only dug into him deeper. More pain shot through his body, causing his body to involuntarily crash back to the ground like he was being pinned.

The pain was too much. It hurt way more than whenever he was beaten by his parents, which was saying something.

His vision started to darken at the edges, but he didn't know if it was from the pain or from the loss of blood. Johnny felt his body become weaker and weaker as he got closer to slipping into unconsciousness. He struggled to stay conscious.

 _HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!_

But, as much as he prayed for a savior to come to his rescue, he knew that it wasn't going to happen. He had to get away himself… somehow… But, at the moment, there was nothing that he could do as struggling only pushed the knife into him deeper.

After what felt like forever, the man pulled away. At that point, Johnny felt numb like his body's pain receptors were completely shut off. He lost too much blood, Johnny figured, lying like a lifeless doll on the ground. Blood ran down his side, falling into the growing pool that was under him.

How long has he been there? Where was the gang?

Before he had the chance to figure any of that out, his hair was grabbed in a tight grip before his head was slammed against the ground, making him see stars. He gritted his teeth as he was let go for a moment.

 _Go, now!_

At that moment, Johnny snapped out of his weak state, remembering that he was going to die if he stayed. He stumbled to his feet, feeling his side burn again. Johnny whimpered, biting his lip so hard that it bled. He only got a step in before he was grabbed again. More pain washed over him as he was pulled back and slugged, but Johnny held on. He struggled, kicking and throwing his arms around wildly until the man was forced the let him go. Johnny kicked back once, hitting something before he took off. The man didn't chase after him, but Johnny didn't pay much attention to that. He just needed to go; to run. His adrenaline pumped through him, numbing the pain of his jostling wounds. He pumped his arms as he ran with one destination in mind: the Curtis house.

But the night threw off his direction. It was too dark to make out any recognizable landmarks. He weaved through different streets, knowing full well that he was getting further and further away from his destination. He ran around so much that the adrenaline that was running through him started to decrease and the pain started to return threefold. He grasped at his side, slowing to a stop. His eyes skittered around, darkening at the edges again.

He couldn't keep running. It hurt too much. He took another step when he heard an angel speak to him.

"Johnny?! Is that you?" It was Two-Bit. Johnny let out a relieved sigh as he saw a familiar silhouette run up to him. He wished that he could see him clearly though, but the streetlights were mysteriously off that night. Two-Bit reached him, grasping onto his shoulders. "Where'd you go?"

But, before Johnny could answer, his vision blurred as his knees buckled from under him. And, just like that, he was out cold. But, right before he completely blacked out, he heard Two-Bit curse before soothing him; telling him that everything was going to be alright.

The next moments after that were fuzzy. Johnny remembered peeking his eyes open to a bright light and the sound of a door slamming shut.

"Johnny?" he heard Ponyboy squeak, but his voice sounded a hundred miles away.

"What happened to him?" Soda asked, moving out of the way so that Two-Bit could lay Johnny on the couch.

"I don't know," Two-Bit answered. "I found him like this. I think he was jumped."

"There's so much blood…"

"We need the first aid kit." Two-Bit stripped Johnny of his shirt, throwing the drenched cloth to the side. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the design made out of cuts on his waist. The cuts weren't too deep, to his relief, but he still lost a lot of blood. The cuts on his hands, caused by small glass shards, were deeper. There was so much blood and so many bruises that littered his body. "Holy shit…"

"Oh, Johnny…" Soda breathed with the first aid kit in his hand. He placed it on the coffee table and bent down on his knees. At that moment, the door opened again, and the rest of the gang entered the house.

"We couldn't find him," Steve announced before he saw the small crowd around a familiar figure. "You found him?" He rushed over, faltering at the sight of how injured Johnny was. Johnny weakly looked over to the newcomers, but it almost looked like his eyes were closed with how tired he was.

"What happened?" Dally sneered. "Who did this to you?"

Johnny shook his head, gasping for breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire. "I don't know… It was too dark to see. I saw his eyes. Golly, the eyes. I've never seen eyes like them. They were so blank."

Darry inspected the wound on Johnny's waist closer, eyebrows furrowing together. He interrupted the two, and said, "We need to stop the bleeding before we get answers. That should be our priority right now."

Although Dally wanted to find whoever did that to his friend, he knew that Darry was right. He huffed, eyes glaring but still holding concern. Darry started to clean the wounds. The gang could only stay back and watch.

Meanwhile, Ponyboy stood back, shaking. That design on Johnny's waist… It was the same mark that Vincent carved into him a while back.

The area on his torso started to burn and itch. Although it happened quite a while ago, the pain was still fresh in his mind.

"What the hell is cut into him?" Steve cursed at the mark. None of them were aware of how drawn back Ponyboy suddenly became. "What is this?"

"The person did this… but he… I think he let me go. He didn't run after me. I thought I was gonna die," Johnny whimpered.

"How much pain are you in?" Soda asked, watching Darry clean and wrap the wound. He winced at how the hydrogen peroxide made it bubble. Soda was amazed that Johnny kept a relatively straight face throughout the entire experience. If it were him, he probably would have broken down by now. It made him remember how strong Johnny actually was and how much he's gone through to be so nonchalant about this.

"I don't feel much right now… I think the adrenaline is doing something to help with the pain."

The house fell into a long silence as Darry reached into the first aid kit to grab the bandages. What else was the gang supposed to do?

"We need to find out whoever did this to him," Dally growled, tapping one of his index fingers on his crossed arms impatiently.

"We will. We'll get him," Two-Bit declared, clenching his fists.

"I wonder why he just let Johnny go though," Steve pondered.

Ponyboy knew why. He scratched at his arms as he shot his eyes to the door and back. "He's coming to get me," Ponyboy mumbled so quietly that the gang almost didn't catch it.

"What was that?" Soda asked, twisting his head around to his brother; now noticing how scared he was. "Oh, Pony, why are you shaking?"

"It's a sign—the mark is. He's going get me."

'He' meant Vincent; the gang knew that. Ponyboy still had trouble saying his name.

"How could you be sure about that?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ponyboy chewed at his lip, now not tearing his eyes from Johnny's wound. He felt nauseous like he was about to throw up at any moment. He never showed them where he was branded. He always kept it wrapped, not letting anyone else change the bandages but him. When he did change the bandages, which he didn't need to do anymore, he made sure not to look. It was just a reminder that Vincent was always there with him and that he would always be just like a beat-up marionette. He lightly touched where the branding was, feeling the bumps of the gauze, like braille, under his clothes with his fingertips. "Because…" he swallowed before reaching under his shirt. He was really doing this.

Closing his eyes, he slowly unwrapped the bandages. They fell to the floor in a tangled heap around him. Ponyboy closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see anything anymore. Man, he missed being blind. Although it was scary and difficult to be blind, at least he could stay oblivious. Ignorance was bliss after all.

The carving had completely scabbed over like miniature mountains, blending into his skin; not quite as prominent as it was when it was a fresh cut. But it was clear that the scars on the two boys were practically identical.

"I'm going to kill him," Dally hissed under his breath, stating what everyone else was thinking. What didn't Vincent do? "He's dead."

"Ponyboy, why didn't you show us this before?" Soda asked, reaching over to touch the scar but Ponyboy violently flinched back. He didn't want anybody to touch that particular scar.

"I don't know," Ponyboy admitted, swallowing thickly. "Shame? Disgust? I can't even look at it myself."

"Oh, Pony… It's—"

"It's _okay_? I know… It's just… I just don't want to be reminded of what I went through. And, now, he's coming to get me. That mark on Johnny is a sign."

"Vincent isn't going to get you," Darry reassured, but Ponyboy wasn't having it. He darted his eyes back to the door. Vincent was definitely going to come get him, he was sure of it.

Ponyboy let out a shuttered breath as he backed away. He didn't was to see Vincent again. No, he can't go through that again! No, no, no! He would rather die.

The gang didn't understand. They didn't know Vincent like he did. They weren't the ones being tortured in the worst ways possible. They didn't know what it was like.

"Pony…" Darry started but Ponyboy whipped around the corner and slammed the door shut to his old room (not the one he shared with Soda). It was the closest and all of the dust in there reassured him that nobody would check the room. Ponyboy locked the door behind him and sat down in a corner, tearing down spiderwebs in the process. He curled up in a ball that he always seemed to be in these days, but he didn't cry. He wanted to, but his fear—his paranoia— pushed him past that point.

Vincent was coming. He was coming. He was coming. He was coming. He was coming.

What was he going to do? He couldn't do anything to protect himself or the gang from that monster.

He looked around the room for some way that would help him, but only learned how easy it was to reach him. Vincent could quite effortlessly enter his house with the door always being open and all. Someone from the gang was always there in the house with him, but, if Dally couldn't win against him, nobody could. They… No, _he_ …. was doomed.

There was a noise from outside the door, followed by the doorknob rattling. Ponyboy's eyes shot to the door, instantly tensing up.

"We'll just talk to him later," he heard Darry whisper. "We need to call the police though. They need to know what happened. How's Johnny doing?"

"He just fell asleep," Soda answered. The two of them walked away from the door and Ponyboy let out a breath.

The door! That would stop people from reaching him.

That's why, Ponyboy decided, the door was going to stay locked. If it stayed locked, he would be safe… or so he thought.

 **o-o-o**

 **Two more chapters left. The next chapter is technically the finale. Then it's the epilogue. So, shit is about to go down!**

 **IMPORTANT: So, for the new story that will come out after this, I shortened the poll down. So, can everyone vote or revote? There are five choices to pick from now. There was a five-way tie. I had also put more of a description down on each of them so you can know exactly what the story entails and change your vote if you decide another one is better if you had already voted.**


	22. Locked in a Cage with the Beast

Ponyboy never realized how creepy the house was when it was void of any people until it was. It was never this quiet before. There was always someone there being boisterous. But, now that nobody but him was there, he was noticing all of the little noises that the house produced—the creeks, the bangs of the piping, the rumble of the washing machine—and it freaked him out. He was already paranoid before. He didn't need the house telling him that someone might be outside.

The house creaked again as if someone else was inside of it, but Ponyboy knew that he was alone. The gang had gone out together, although they were reluctant to leave him behind. They needed the break and Ponyboy wasn't letting them coop themselves up, going crazy, in the house for his sake. They went out after a lot of convincing, reasoning to themselves that probably nothing would happen in the few hours that they were gone. Plus, with Ponyboy all locked in his room and whatnot, chances were, he was safe. The gang wanted to bring him along with them, but the boy never left his old room ever since Johnny was attacked. They didn't blame him, but it was still quite worrisome. They tried to coax him out, but he refused to listen to them. He only left the room when he went to go to the bathroom or to grab a plate of food. Even then, he left when nobody was around.

There was a bang against the wall, causing Ponyboy to jump in the corner that he tucked himself into. His hands covered his ears as he rocked himself back and forth.

 _It's just the house. It's just the house. He was safe. The door was locked. Nobody could get in. He was alone._

Another bang. This time, Ponyboy let out a squeak.

' _Vincent's not here. Vincent's not here. Vincent's not here. Vincent's not here',_ Ponyboy repeated to himself like a mantra.

There were whispers. Ponyboy tried his best to block them out. He heard whispers all the time, so it wasn't new… but it just seemed like the whispers came from inside the room with him.

 _What if someone actually was in the house? What if it was Vincent?_

Ponyboy shook his head, whimpering. No, no, no. Nobody was there with him. He was alone. Well, at least, he thought that he was alone. That was until he heard a thump above him, coming from the vents. His head snapped in the direction the noise came from but didn't find anything out of the ordinary.

 _It's all in your head. It's not real. It's just your imagination._

Another noise followed by heavy breathing.

 _IT'S JUST YOUR IMAGINATION. IT'S NOT REAL_ , Ponyboy screamed in his head, heart pounding against his chest. Anxiety tickled his spine as he constantly shot his eyes towards the clock. He was regretting letting the gang go out now.

A few things fluttered down from the vents and Ponyboy swallowed thickly as they gleamed in the light. For a long moment, he just stared at the newly formed pile, unmoving. He didn't want to move to begin with, but his curiosity got the best of him.

He slowly crawled to the pile, hoping that it was just paint peelings that had fallen. But, when he got close enough to see what it actually was, his heart stopped, and his breath hitched in his throat. There, in front of him was a pile of photos. He reached forward with his trembling hands, fingers pressing into the pictures until they formed creases in them. He flipped through them, feeling sicker and sicker with each one. All of the photos were of him—recent photos. He didn't remember ever taking any of them. In fact, none of them had him looking at the camera. They were all photos of him doing mundane tasks around the house. Some photos were innocent—him eating or even him talking to someone from the gang—while others were not. They were photos of him sleeping or even, to his disgust, him taking a shower. And, what made it worse, was that all of the photos were taken inside the house. The photo of him sleeping, for example, was taken like the cameraman was standing right over him.

Ponyboy's mouth was dry. His fingers glided over idents on the back of the photos, causing him to flip them all over. On each one of them, scribbled in pen, was:

' _You locked the doors to keep me out, but you only locked both of us in together.'_

The room spun around him, but that didn't stop him from looking up when there was another bang above him. He slowly lifted his head, eyes bulging out of his eyes at what he saw. When he looked up at the vent, he saw two eyes staring back at him. Ponyboy opened his mouth, but no scream came out. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the eyes as the vent opened and Vincent lightly dropped down.

"I missed you, Ponyboy," Vincent sneered before he lunged. Everything, at that point, went by so quickly. It was like he was put into autopilot. One moment he was on the ground and the next he was at his door, fumbling with the lock. His mind was in such a panic that his fingers kept missing the lock, and, by the time he was able to unlock the door, he was yanked backward. He crashed onto the floor before Vincent grabbed his ankles and dragged him deeper in his room. Ponyboy screamed, digging his fingernails into the carpet, trying to grab ahold of something to slow him down or stop him.

"Help, somebody, help me," Ponyboy wailed, although he knew that nobody would be coming to his rescue. He kicked his feet back, hitting Vincent square in the chest each time. Vincent only grunted, however, seemingly unaffected by Ponyboy's struggling. "Let go of me!"

When he was dragged to the other side of the room, Vincent suddenly let go of him. Instead, opting to pin Ponyboy down. His large hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breath, but Ponyboy wasn't having it. As soon as he got the chance, Ponyboy bit down at Vincent's hands, feeling blood gush into his mouth. Vincent instantly reeled back, giving Ponyboy enough time to roll his body back, bucking his leg like a donkey. The man was shoved off, letting Ponyboy have enough time to get back on his feet, open the door and leave.

He sprinted towards the entrance of his house, ankle screaming at him. He never tried to run on his ankle since he was taken. He could barely walk for a while without it hurting. Pain shot through his body like electricity, but he pushed himself to keep going, fear propelling him forward. He made it to the living room, eyeing the front door that seemed to be racing away from him.

He chased after it, but the door kept running away. Finally, he made it to the front door, legs throbbing. His hands wrapped around the doorknob, but, when he tried to open the door, it was locked. It was never locked.

Hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him backward. Ponyboy tried to struggle out of his grasp, but a knife pressed against his cheek. "Stop struggling," his hissed, dragging his knife down the boy's cheek, cutting his skin. Ponyboy hissed in pain as blood dribbled down his face and onto the carpet.

All of a sudden, the knife was stabbed into his side where the branding was, and Ponyboy screamed bloody murder. Heat as hot as embers spread around the area where he was stabbed. It was bad. Really bad. The pain was almost unbearable. The knife was removed, and blood gushed out, drenching his shirt.

While he was in shock, Vincent dragged him to the bathroom where he filled up the bathtub. Ponyboy was delirious at that point, but when he saw the bathtub being filled, tears finally fell down his face. He knew what was about to happen. He was forced onto his knees when the water was shut off, a hand grabbing his hair.

"No. Don't do it," Ponyboy begged. "Please."

But, of course, Vincent didn't listen to him. The madman shoved Ponyboy's head underwater and held it there. In the beginning, Ponyboy was fine, but then his lungs started to burn, veins stretching across his vision. He struggled to push himself up, but Vincent was too strong. He could only splash around uselessly, spraying water everywhere. Ponyboy screamed, but it only made him lose oxygen faster.

' _It was going to be okay'_ , Ponyboy coaxed himself. Vincent was going to let him back up. He loved to prolong his torturing.

But… that never came…

Vincent pressed his face deeper into the water and Ponyboy started to feel all of the energy sap out of his body. His vision blurred as he gasped out in order to get oxygen. Instead, water infiltrated his mouth, choking him. Oxygen was completely cut off and everything started to go black.

Was this it? Was he finally going to die? Well, at least everything was finally going to end. He wouldn't have to feel any more pain after this. It was all over… finally…

But he wished that it didn't have to end like this.

What came after death? It didn't matter to Ponyboy. Anything was better than with Vincent.

And, just like that, he slipped into unconsciousness.

 **o-o-o**

When the gang returned to the Curtis house, they felt nauseous. They suddenly had a bad feeling that something was happening… but they couldn't figure out what it was. The house looked just like how they left it.

So… what was wrong?

But something was telling them—no, screaming— that they needed to be in there right at that second. The gang looked at each other, coming to a silent, unanimous understandment, before rushing over to the house. Darry got there first, turning to doorknob but it didn't twist all the way, indicating that it was locked.

"It's locked?" Darry questioned, bewildered.

"It's never locked," Soda murmured, eyes wide.

"Did Pony lock it?" Two-Bit asked. "He was scared that someone would break in."

"He would never…" Johnny answered, digging his nails into his arms impatiently. They had to get in. Something bad was happening.

Darry fumbled for his keys, flipping through the array. He started to jam them into the keyhole one by one. He had forgotten what the key actually looked like after all of that time of not using it.

"Hurry!" Soda pressed, hopping on the balls of his feet.

"I'm trying!" Darry hissed, jamming another key in. He cursed when didn't fit. From the other side of the door, they heard a muffled shout, almost too quiet to hear. It was Ponyboy. Something was happening to him and they couldn't get inside to help. If possible, Darry moved even faster, finally fitting in the correct key and pushing the door open. When they got into the house, they froze with loud gasps.

"Holy crap," Dally cursed at the scene. Blood was everywhere, practically staining the carpet crimson. It looked like somebody was murdered there or getting murdered, which wasn't far from the actual truth.

"Call the cops," Darry ordered no one in particular as he rushed across the living room, following the trail of blood. It led back to the bathroom. Everything for him went tunnel vision, but he could hear the gang right behind him as he jiggled the bathroom doorknob. It was locked as well. He cursed when he heard the sound of water splashing, imagining the worse.

He had to get in! Ponyboy was hurt!

He reeled back his leg and hurled it into the door, slamming it open, doorknob hammering a hole into the wall. Inside, he saw Ponyboy, cut up, blood oozing down onto the tile, adding onto the pool that already formed beneath him. He was unconscious, head dunked in the filled bathtub. But the worst part was that he wasn't breathing. There was no rise and fall of the chest. Nothing.

He wasn't breathing! He wasn't breathing! Ponyboy was dying.

The gang all rushed inside the bathroom, minus the person who was on the phone with the operator, to Ponyboy.

Soda dragged Ponyboy out of the bathtub and onto the tile, shaking his shoulder like a madman. "Ponyboy! Ponyboy, wake up," Soda pleaded, eyes filling with tears. "Please, wake up, baby. Wake up!" But nothing woke the boy up.

Steve bent down and pressed his fingers to his neck. He concentrated on finding some sort of pulse. When he found one, although weak, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't over after all. "He's still alive," he announced, praying that Ponyboy was going to end up alright.

"We need to perform CPR," Darry declared.

The entire ordeal distracted the gang from the fact that the person who was killing Ponyboy was still in the bathroom. It was all such a rush that they didn't notice Vincent slip out of the door from his hiding place under the sink cabinet. As soon as he stepped out, thinking that everyone was in the small bathroom, he saw Dally turn from the phone. His eyes instantly hardened.

"You!" he screamed, hanging up the phone with a slam. Dally grabbing his switchblade which Vincent eyed tentatively. Vincent stepped backward, knowing that the gang was all in the bathroom and that he had no chance against the entire lot. He had to find a creative way out of his careless mistake.

Before he knew it, Dally attacked him, and everything went downhill for Vincent.

From inside the bathroom, they heard the sound of fighting in the living room. At that moment, they remembered that the person (Vincent) was still there. Dally must have been fighting him.

"Help him," Darry said to the others, who left without any questions. Soda was reluctant to go, however. He wanted to stay by Ponyboy's side, but, one look into Darry's eyes, told him that he needed to help them. The bathroom soon became empty with only Ponyboy, Darry, and Johnny inside.

"What can I do?" Johnny asked, scooting closer to his unconscious friend.

"He needs CPR. I'll push, you breathe. Tilt his head back and pinch his nose when I tell you to do so. Breathe twice."

Johnny nodded as Darry stood on his knees, locking his arms. He placed one hand over the other, interlocking them. He firmly pressed his arms down over and over, counting under his breath.

"One. Two. Three…" he counted. When he got to thirty, he stopped. "Go."

Johnny quickly tilted Ponyboy's head back, giving him short but powerful breaths, watching as Ponyboy's chest rose with each one. He pulled away and Darry started to pump again.

But… it just seemed useless.

It felt like they have been doing CPR forever. The minutes dragged on and with each second, the more desperate the two of them became to save Ponyboy. Where was the ambulance?!

"Come on! Ponyboy, come on!" Darry begged. Unfamiliar tears were falling down his eyes. He couldn't go. Ponyboy and Soda were all he had left. He didn't know if he could handle another loss. He would surely break. "Don't die on me. Please. Don't go. Not you too. I can't lose you. Wake up." His pumping, although in time, became harder, enough to feel a rib break from the pressure. But Darry kept going, weeping.

Johnny was staring at Ponyboy's paling face, hands shaking as he held his chin up. "Come on…" Johnny murmured, bending over to breathe again.

How long have they been doing CPR? Was Ponyboy's heart even still going? Where was the damn ambulance? They should have been here by now.

Darry showed no signs of stopping. Something told Johnny that he would still do CPR even if Ponyboy actually passed away. He started to slam his fists against his kid brother's chest, but all it brought was another rib breaking… or was it?

Suddenly, water sputtered out of Ponyboy's mouth as he let out a loud gasp followed by hacking. Color started to return to his face like he was a painting. The two of them only stared at Ponyboy in shock as his eyes fluttered open, locking onto the two of them. "Darry? Johnny? What—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Darry rested his head on Ponyboy's forearm, still bawling his eyes out. He was probably seconds away from losing his brother.

Ponyboy didn't know what to do. Darry didn't cry enough to know how to comfort him. "Are you crying?" Ponyboy asked. He tried to sit up, but pain shot to his body as he fell back down with a cry.

"Don't get up. You're hurt," Darry explained, pressing a towel to where he was stabbed. That should be good enough until the ambulance came by.

"Why does it feel like I have broken ribs?" Ponyboy groaned, poking at his chest.

"We had to do CPR. Some ribs broke during that."

All of a sudden, there was a sound of glass shattering from inside the living room, catching all of their attention. "What's happening?" Ponyboy wondered.

"They're still fighting?" Darry wondered worriedly to himself.

"Fighting? Who's fighting?"

"Vincent." Ponyboy went pale again. He was still there, only meters away. And, he was managing against the gang in what he was told. "Johnny, stay with Ponyboy. I'm going to help them."

But when Darry got out, it seemed like the battle was over and Vincent was lying on the floor, almost unconscious, with cuts and bruises all over his body. The gang was looming over him, looking relatively fine besides a few bruises and cuts themselves. Glass was shattered around Vincent, which must have been why he was on the floor. As soon as Darry got out of the bathroom, attention was turned to him.

"How's Ponyboy?" Soda asked instantly, peeking into the bathroom.

"He's fine. He still needs medical attention though."

The gang breathed out in relief at the news. They really thought that Ponyboy was going to die. They were glad that he was fine to the most part. They turned back to Vincent when he started to chuckle. "I'm glad he didn't die. The pain that he received was the best ever," Vincent croaked.

"Shut up," Dally hissed, kicking Vincent in the face. Even though that should have knocked him out, Vincent held on, blankly laughing.

Lights flashed from outside and the gang felt themselves relax. Darry let the police and paramedics inside the house who started to take care of everything. Ponyboy was lifted up and brought to the ambulance, while Vincent was pushed towards a police car with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but that was all it took for fear to rush over Ponyboy. Vincent emptily smirked, blood sticking into the cracks between his teeth, causing the boy to tremor. Ponyboy was glad when the ambulance doors shut and he was rushed out of there; away from his kidnapper.

Was that it? Was it finally over after all of this time?

There was no need for another trial. He was being sent straight to jail.

It was over. He was finally safe.

Ponyboy could almost chuckle if his body wasn't in so much agony.

It was over… and yet… it seemed too good to be true.

Was it really finished?

 **o-o-o**

 **One more chapter! Please review and tell me what you think about this chapter.**

 **Also, if you haven't voted for what the next story would be, go do it! This is your last chance to vote!**


	23. Epilogue

" _Today's weather is going to be sunny. The high will be—"_ the weatherman announced but Ponyboy Curtis zoned him, as well as everything else around him, out as he flipped through his book. His vision blurred for a moment as his glasses fell to the tip of his nose. He blinked as he pushed it back up, scrunching up his nose a bit.

It's been half a year since Vincent was caught. Since then, life has smoothly fallen back into place. Well, to the most part. Ponyboy had still yet to return to school. He just wasn't ready yet. The news and rumors were still popular topics amongst students. He didn't want to feel overwhelmed or triggered by anything, so he figured that he would lay low—do some homeschooling—before returning.

He had gotten a lot better. Meat was now on his bones, there weren't dark bags under his eyes anymore, and his vision was mostly back to how it was before thanks to his new glasses. The only thing that he couldn't heal was his boredom. There wasn't much to do these days besides watch TV, draw, or read. But reading was quite enjoyable.

He was so focused on his novel that he didn't even notice the front door open until someone spoke.

"Soda, ready to go?" Steve called out, letting someone else in the house as well. Ponyboy still didn't pay attention to the newcomers.

Soda came running out of his room while trying to slip on his shoes. Although he was just tripping around without getting anywhere until he stopped in front of them. "Yeah! I just need to grab one more thing," Soda replied with a huge, goofy grin plastered on his face. Soda then turned to the other person. "Who's this?"

Steve jabbed a finger towards the newcomer, leaning heavily on one leg. "This is Sawyer, the guy I was telling you about."

"Hi," greeted a new voice that Ponyboy didn't recognize. Still… he didn't look up from what he was doing. He drowned the conversation out like he did with the TV. It wasn't like it involved him anyways. That was until they started to talk about him.

"Hey," Sawyer whispered—though it was quite loud. "That's him, right? He was the one who got kidnapped; the one on the news?"

"Yeah, that's him," Steve replied nonchalantly.

"Man, I heard he was raped." At those words, Ponyboy tensed up. His hands gripped the edges of his book tightly as he stared holes into the words that he wasn't even reading anymore. Even though it happened a while ago, the memory was still fresh in his mind. Everything Vincent did to him was like that. There were just some scars that couldn't be healed. "I also heard that he wanted to go back to his kidnapper at one point… that's messed up. He must have enjoyed it. It's really disgusting."

 _Disgusting. Nasty. Corrupted._

The pages started to rip out of his book and all Ponyboy just wanted to do was run into his room and hide under the covers of his bed.

 _You'll never be seen the same by anyone. You're such a burden. Why don't you—_

The sound of a skin slapping against skin caused Ponyboy's attention to snap up from his book. His eyes widened in shock when he saw Steve's fist raised and Sawyer's face turned to the side. It didn't take a genius to tell what had just happened. Steve had just punched Sawyer in the cheek.

"What the hell, man?!" Sawyer hissed, holding the area where he was just socked. It was already turning red.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that!" Steve snapped; eyes harsh. So much rage filled them that it scared all the occupants in the room. Not even Soda, who was glaring at Sawyer with clenched fists, could top it. "Now, _get out_!"

Sawyer looked appalled. His mouth dropped slightly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Get out!"

"It's not your house."

Steve just raised his eyebrows and gave him an are-you-really-pulling-that expression. The two of them looked at Soda who's smile had long since dropped. Sawyer then knew that he wasn't going to be able to stay. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting. Soda was Ponyboy's older brother after all. "Get out now," Soda ordered, voice lowered into a growl.

Rolling his eyes, Sawyer flipped them off. "Fuck you all."

And, just like that, Sawyer was gone after slamming the door. The two greasers turned to Ponyboy who fidgeted on the couch uncomfortably under their stares. "You alright?" Steve asked with concern when he noticed Ponyboy's trembling hands and the ripped pages of his book.

"I'm fine," Ponyboy answered, closing his book to rub at his fingers instead. They were stiff with how tightly he was holding the edges of his book. He looked down again to avoid their gaze, a bit ashamed. He knew that people would think that he was disgusting, but he still wanted to be as oblivious as he could about it… because there was still the chance that the gang thought those things as well but just weren't admitting it to him. God forbid them from finding out what other things that he did in the basement. The image of blood flashed on his hands for a second. Even though he should tell them the entire story… some things are just meant to be kept in secret.

"You know you're not any of the things that he said, right?" Soda asked worriedly. His frown deepened when Ponyboy still kept his face turned down dejectedly.

"I know."

Soda placed his fingers on Ponyboy's chin, lifting his head up so they could look into each other's eyes. "I know that you're still thinking about it. Stop thinking that you are. You're not. He manipulated and used you. The names are all wrong."

"I know," Ponyboy repeated emptily. Whatever would get them off his back. It seemed to work because Soda let go of his chin.

Steve looked out the door, tilting his head with thought. "Hey, want to come with us?" Steve suddenly asked and Ponyboy looked at him curiously. Steve never asked him to tag along. He always complained about him joining them. But here he was, trying something different for his sake. "We're going to go around town to find something to do."

Ponyboy bit his bottom lip in thought. It would be nice but… "I don't want to be a burden," Ponyboy brought up.

"We're the ones who are inviting you. Now, come on, kid. You coming or what?"

The boy smiled a bit, nodding. "Okay… Let's go. And… thanks, Steve."

Steve grinned, giving him a noogie. "Of course."

The trio gathered their things and headed outside. When Ponyboy left the house. He didn't hear the newsman announce, " _Vincent Cox, who had been charged with kidnapping, rape, child pornography, murder, and vandalism had recently disappeared from prison. Law enforcement officials are tracking him but have not found anything as of yet. If you see him, please contact the police immediately_."

 **o-o-o**

 **Boom! Done!**

 **Thank you so much for reading this story and for giving me so much support! Thank you to all the people that reviewed, you really helped me keep this story going. Please, tell me what you think about this story. Also, I will NOT be writing a sequel. Sorry. :p**

 **I'm just going to leave this like this to infuriate you guys a bit. Haha.**

 **Anyway, if you like my work, please check out my new story! It has nothing to do with this and has a lighter theme. It's called,** _ **Wrong Place at the Wrong Time**_ **.**

 **But, for now, stay gold!**


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